Worldwar: Clash of Empires
by Trevor the Enchanter
Summary: The Conquest Fleet is delayed and WWII continues uninterrupted, but in 1982, astronomers detect strange objects entering our solar system...
1. Chapter 1

March 6, 1982:

For Alexander Cooper, this was far from a typical day at the office.

_Still, this is probably the most exciting thing I've seen in years. _He admitted. Alexander was a 52-year old man and had been working at NASA for fifteen years. His job was to search for planets in other solar systems, although so far, the effort had been a failure.

"Of course, this is an exciting find... not to mention horrifying." He muttered to himself, looking over the latest images from Voyager 1. Alexander had counted numerous objects entering the solar system. Even from such a distance, close to thirty objects had been spotted, leaving him to believe that there were far more the initial reports indicated. "If so many can be seen from 500 million kilometers, how many more will we detect as they get closer to earth?" Nobody else had any idea what these objects were, either.

They were traveling at several hundred kilometers per second, moving far too quickly to be comets are asteroids, not to mention no one had ever seen a group of asteroids in that kind of formation. Whatever the objects were, they were spread out perfectly, almost completely evenly spaced with respect to one another.

Alexander rolled up the current photo and looked over the more recent ones, hoping to see more detail in order to find out just what the hell these things were. These were from Pioneer 10, currently the most distant man-made object in the solar system. "There are even more here..." He muttered, looking over the photos. The objects were still in formation, but he was also able to see and recognize their shape. They were rectangular, with them narrowing as you approached the tail end.

While not on a direct course to Earth, they were approaching at high speeds, meaning that they could pose a major threat. Not to mention that he'd never seen any objects that behaved this way, but at the same time, couldn't figure out just what they might be.

"I'd better inform my superiors." Alexander said to himself. The objects had been studied for two weeks, but they were no closer to figuring out what they were. "If I didn't know better, I'd say those were alien ships." He laughed briefly to himself. Then all of a sudden, it didn't seem so funny anymore. What if it was actually true?

As unlikely as it sounded, he couldn't dismiss the possibility. It would take more time in order to truly determine what these objects were. _And if I'm right? _Alexander worried. Even though he knew he could end up being a laughingstock, he decided to let his superiors know anyway.

XXXXXXXXXX

March 12, 1982:

_I am not afraid. _Melanie Sullivan told herself repeatedly as she walked home down the streets of Long Island. This wasn't something that she normally did, but her shift ran a couple of hours longer than normal, because a couple of her co-workers became sick and she was asked to fill in for them.

"Hard to believe this was once a safe place to live." Melanie was still about a mile away from her home in Cleveland, Ohio. The story she heard from her parents was that it used to be a neighborhood where you could let children run wild and free with minimal consequences. She sometimes had a hard time believing it herself.

It was still twilight, which meant that not all the unsavory types were out just yet. Melanie's hand wandered to her pocket, where she secretly kept a switchblade. She prayed she'd never have to use it, and likely wouldn't know how to even if it became necessary, but it gave her a sense of security.

Fortunately for her, however, she had succeeded in getting home without any incidents. Melanie had learned to detect where she could be in for trouble, where to walk and what parts of the neighborhood to avoid at night. She walked into her apartment and locked the door, spotting a baseball bat on the corner.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Melanie asked, picking it up and setting it back in the closet. While she was done with her workweek, he had more erratic hours and was going back tomorrow.

"I'd rather be prepared, just in case." He said from his chair. "You've got all kinds of drug addicts and weirdos around here." He winced as he got up from his chair to pour himself a glass of water.

Even though Thomas was the older sibling, Melanie felt like she was often the only one in charge. She knew it was kind of an unusual arrangement; out of all her friends, she was the only one who was actually roommates with her brother. More than once, the two had been mistaken for a married couple. Still, he didn't have anyone to stay with, and neither of them could afford to live on their own just now; not and save for college at the same time.

"So how was your day?" Thomas asked.

"About the same as always; all right, but had a few difficult customers to deal with." Melanie responded. Now that she was home, she felt safer.

"Sounds typical; lasted a lot longer than I did at that place." Thomas admitted. While highly intelligent, her brother wasn't good with people. He previously had a job as a cashier, but only lasted two weeks because his manager didn't think he was smiling enough and fired him. "Still, suppose it worked out all right. Job I have now is more pleasant, even if I do come home half-dead every night." Currently, he was loading and unloading trucks for a distribution center. "Money's not bad, either. Year or so, I'll have enough money to go to college. Oh, and there was something else I found interesting."

"What is it?" Melanie inquired. She wished he'd simply get to the point.

"I ran into Sam Yeager during lunch." Thomas stated.

"Our old high-school coach?" Melanie's eyes widened. Out of all their coaches, he had been probably the only one her brother actually liked. She had her share of hard-asses, but he had been a decent man, always encouraging even though Thomas had no athletic ability at all and her own was average. Despite that, he encouraged her to try out for the basketball team.

"The one and only." Thomas gave a rare genuine smile. "He's doing pretty good for a man of seventy-five. Apparently he's still coaching and boring high school students with all his stories about when he played in the minors."

"Hasn't changed a bit, has he?" Melanie chuckled."So what do we have for dinner?" Her stomach was beginning to growl.

"I already ate; it's up to you." Thomas shrugged. Her parents always insisted they eat dinner together, but the instant he moved out on his own, that came to an end. Not that she was especially surprised; when he was a kid, the entire discussion was centered around him eating food. He only ate about a dozen different foods, perhaps even less. With stuff he didn't like... he was known to end up vomiting afterwards. No one could explain just what was wrong with him. He'd been to numerous doctors, who were just as stumped as their parents were.

"All right, then." Melanie was too tired to argue at the moment. She was tired and would likely go to sleep quite soon, so she decided on something quick. She searched the kitchen for something edible, and found that her brother had bought another 5 jugs of water. "You've got like, 20 of those already! Why can't you just drink from the tap like everyone else?"

"By the way, I heard some bad news." Thomas winced and looked like he was dreading whatever he was about to say.

_Whatever is it, it can't be good. _Melanie thought. "Go on," she gestured.

"You remember Fred?" Thomas asked. How could she not? He was best friends with both of them back when they were kids. Melanie even went out with him for a short period of time, but decided that the whole thing was too weird and broke it off. "Well, I just got some news about him. I just found out that he's dead."

Horror filled her veins. That wasn't possible! Fred was one of the toughest people she knew! How could this have happened?! "What... what happened?" Melanie asked, wanting to know but at the same time dreading his answer.

"From what I read in the paper, it was a drug deal gone bad; he died at the hospital about an hour later." Thomas sighed, while his sister was infuriated that he didn't seem that upset about it.

Suddenly, Melanie didn't feel so tired anymore. Tears begin to streak down her eyes. She had lost contact with him over the years, seeing him less and less due to his lifestyle that she once shared, even if she did not delve into it so deeply. If you looked carefully, there were still a couple of needle scars on her left arm. "Like, how the fuck could that have happened?" Melanie screamed, feeling the urge to pull her hair out by the roots. "Shit, I know all the crazy shit he got into, but... goddamn it, dude!"

"He was smart, more so than most people gave him credit for." Thomas admitted. "Could have been much more, but I suppose it's not all that surprising."

"Can't you show any consideration at all?!" Melanie screamed at him. He sounded almost bored giving the news, his eyes completely emotionless. "He's fucking dead! Don't you give a damn about that?"

"Yes, but I've had time to prepare myself for the possibility." Thomas responded, still in a monotone. "Crime's at record levels, he uses... well, used heroin and drank on an almost daily basis; not exactly the sort of lifestyle that leads to happy endings."

"I just wish he hadn't disappeared on us." Melanie stopped crying, but still felt empty inside. She stared off into space, cursing God, fate, or whatever reason he was shot dead. A large part of her wanted to strangle her brother for sounding so uncaring about him.

"So do I, Melanie." Thomas got up from his chair. "I'm going to go for a brief walk. I should be back in around half an hour or so."

"It's getting dark; you sure that's a good idea?" Melanie asked with some concern. Even though he had a lot of physical strength, he wasn't a fighter; he didn't have the will for it. He had already been mugged a few months ago as well, and had refused to leave his apartment alone for a week after that.

"No, but all I know is, I've got to do something or I'm going to end up going crazy." Thomas admitted. He grabbed a mag-light, both for visibility and protection and walked out the door, leaving Melanie to her own devices.

_Gee, it's not like you could stay here and I don't know, talk to me! _Melanie snarled to herself, but her anger quickly disappeared. Each of them had their own ways of coping with tragedy. Thomas often kept himself busy so he wouldn't think about it, a habit he had picked up from their father. She'd speak to him later, once they had calmed down a bit.

More tears were shed soon afterwards, but Melanie began to feel better after that. It wasn't as if this was completely out of the blue; Thomas was right about that much. Even so, she didn't want to think about it, hoping he would be able to get out of that life the way she had a couple years ago. Still, considering what his home life was like... he'd never been given a chance to show his potential. For all her parents' faults, they loved them both and looked out for them as best they could, even if they didn't understand certain aspects of them. Many people she knew weren't so lucky.

She began to feel her exhaustion returning, and her eyelids were drooping. Melanie walked to the phone and decided to inform her parents. Even though she was now 21 years old, she still wished she was able to hear from them more often. Hell, part of her wished that she'd went with them. Two years ago, they had moved to South Carolina. Her father received a major job opportunity from Boeing and decided to take the offer, moving to Charleston. He offered herself and her brother a chance to come with him, but the siblings decided to stay in the city they'd known their entire life. On occasion, she thought she'd made a mistake.

After eight rings, it went to their answering machine. "Perfect, just perfect." Melanie muttered to herself. Hopefully, they could at least return her call in a reasonable amount of time. She left a brief message detailing what had happened and promised to call back whenever she received any more information. She slammed the phone down, rubbing her eyes.

She briefly considered waiting for her brother to return, but decided not to. The television was still on, with anchors discussing Reagan's speech in Berlin. Thomas was much more into politics than she was, but she was no less scared of the prospect of the world ending.

_Fred's been murdered, crime continues to skyrocket, and Cold War tensions are higher than ever. _Melanie groaned. _Is there any possible way for things to get worse? _was her last coherent thought before she fell asleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

March 18, 1982:

Currently, Atvar was the only shiplord who was awakened from cold sleep, and as the fleetlord, it was his responsibility to make sure the final part of the journey went smoothly. Not that he particularly expected anything to go wrong, but it was vital that every possible scenario be planned for. No male of the Race would expect anything unless.

Out of his eye turrets, he could see their fleet passing Tosev 7. As for Tosev 3, it was also barely visible from his bare eye turret at such distance, but they would be there soon, approximately 4/10ths of a year. Little did the natives know that 1,000 ships carrying 20 million Males of the Race were headed their way.

He activated the hologram of Tosev 3, even though there was currently no one but himself to view it. Some of the ship's physicians had also been brought out of cold sleep, but they were busy reviving the highest ranking Shiplords. No, for now, the spectacle was his to view and his alone. After spending 104 years in Cold Sleep, being up and about again was a considerable accomplishment. There were limits to Cold Sleep technology and going under for more than one hundred years was considered a risky endeavor.

However, for the honor of being fleetlord, he was willing to accept the possible consequences, something that he knew made him something of a risk-taker among the Race. The initial plan was to send their fleet eighty years previously, but the budget-cutters decided to delay the invasion for another generation. After all, what difference would it make?

"What difference indeed..." Atvar muttered. He replaced the hologram of Tosev 3 with an image of one of the natives their probe had taken 1,680 years ago. The native wore a metal suit of armor, sitting on top of a horse that looked far too weak to be carrying such a heavy burden. This is what they found the best of Tosevite technology to be at the current time period.

He heard footsteps coming from behind him. One of his eye turrets swung his way and recognized him as his second in command, Kirel. "I greet you, exalted fleetlord." He bent into the traditional posture of respect. Kirel looked considerably older than when he found him last. Unlike himself, Kirel had simply chosen to wait the ninety years until the conquest was to be undertaken before going into Cold Sleep. Biologically, he was older than Atvar.

"I greet you, Kirel." Atvar stated. "Were you awoken just now?"

"I was, exalted fleetlord, and I wished to see the planet we are about to conquer." Kirel declared. "It hardly looks habitable, does it?"

Atvar had a lot of difficulty arguing with him. While Tosev was far brighter than the sun that Home orbited around, it was also a far greater distance away from its parent star. Parts of it were pleasant enough, but it was covered in water, 70.2% of the land's surface, according to the probe they sent, about ten times the covering there was on Home. Even that was not including the massive ice sheets at the North and South Poles; ice was a rare phenomenon outside laboratory conditions on Home. On Tosev 3, however, it was very different. "From a distance, yes, but we will be capable of living on it; some parts of it are quite pleasant.. The natives will also give us no difficulty."

"If only our conquest went as scheduled." Kirel admitted. He was nearing 180 years old and was beginning to feel the years. "A small matter, admittedly."

"Yes, but it makes little difference in the long run." Atvar informed.

"As you say, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel agreed. "Straha should be waking shortly."

That was an event Atvar would have been happy to delay. Indefinitely, if possible. For a short time, it appeared that Straha would be given ultimate command of the Conquest Fleet, only the Emperor had given the position to him, leaving Straha third in command. Personally, he felt Straha should have been grateful to be given such importance, but instead, he responded only with resentment.

An alarm shook them out of their thoughts. Atvar's eye turrets swiveled, his fingerclaws typing on the computer in order to determine what their sensors had detected. At the speed they were currently traveling, even an impact with a small object could prove fatal to everyone in the unfortunate ship it collided into. He relaxed somewhat when it was discovered that whatever it was happened to be 1.2 million kilometers away from the closest ship.

He continued to type, wanting to know just what the computer had detected. A meteor? Most likely. There were few objects larger than pebbles in their own solar system, although the Rabotev system's belt was quite extensive. Tosev 3, though, had countless massive asteroids, which sometimes made Atvar wonder how anything lived there.

"That... does not look like any meteor I have been, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel said slowly, still trying to take in what was on the hologram.

"No, it does not." Atvar agreed. If he didn't know better, he would assume that what he was seeing on the screen was a probe. He enhanced it as much as he could; it's composition was metallic, without any sort of rock at all. There was also something coming from it. "Radio signals! Impossible!"

"Is it one of our probes left over from the initial scan?" Kirel suggested. "It seems the most likely probability."

Atvar did further scans on the probe, not an easy feat with its considerable distance, which was growing by the second. After a couple minutes, he made the negative hand gesture. "Too small, too slow, too primitive to be anything of our design." He eventually concluded. "Yet if it is not ours, whose could it be?" He considered it highly unlikely- no, impossible- that the Tosevites could have built a space probe. 1,680 years ago, they were a backward, pre-industrial civilization. How could they possibly have advanced so quickly?

"It is far too small and slow to travel interstellar distances." Kirel stated. "Forgive me for saying so, Exalted Fleetlord, but... I believe that this is a Tosevite probe. It defies everything we know, yes, but it is the only possibility I can currently fathom."

"Impossible, simply impossible." Atvar made the negative hand gesture. As he continued to look at the hologram, however, he was slowly coming to the conclusion that Kirel was right. _What does this mean for us? _Atvar thought. Suddenly, he wished that all he had to worry about on the conquest was Straha's abrasiveness.

He hurried to the physicians who were in the final stages of waking Straha. "Wake the other shiplords; wake them now." Atvar order. It was a year-tenth ahead of schedule, but under the circumstances, he considered it appropriate.

XXXXXXXXXX

Well, let me know what you think. This is my first worldwar fanfiction, and I'm attempting to keep as much of the feel of the Worldwar series as possible. The idea comes from a line Atvar mentioned about what would have happened if they had decided to delay the Conquest Fleet another generation.


	2. Chapter 2

April 3, 1982

Of all the places he never expected to be, the Pentagon was high on Andrei Taktarov's list. The Americans had called for an emergency meeting with several senior members of the Red Army. Even Brezhnev himself was currently in a private meeting with Reagan for reasons that had not yet made themselves known.

The first conclusion that came to mind was that the Cold War was about to go hot, a concept that filled Andrei's mind with dread. However much he despised the capitalists and their decadent ways, he did not want a nuclear war particularly since it would bring ruin to the Soviet Union as well.

He was receiving strange looks ever since he arrived with his interpreter and not all of them were due to being from the Soviet Union. Andrei had been a cripple for most of his life, despite numerous medical procedures he had undergone. At twenty years of age, he had been conscripted into the Red Army in a desperate attempt to halt the Hitlerite invasion. He remembered most of his time digging trenches, little more than glorified foxholes, but that was often all they had time for.

He was captured in 1942, during the German's efforts to capture the Caucasus region, and spent three years in a death camp being worked nearly to death. When he was finally liberated, his reward for his service of the Soviet Union was another eight years in the gulag. The combined experiences very nearly claimed his life, and left him a cripple. He could walk, with a cane, but only with great difficulty and short spans of time.

Even so, he kept his displeasure to himself. Andrei still had a job to do, and he had to admit to himself, he was curious as to why he was here. He looked over at his translator, who was remaining silent. He had many questions of his superiors, but wisely chose to keep his mouth shut. Not that Andrei could have answered many of them even if he had the inclination to.

As the walk went on, he was in increasing pain, but refused to show any kind of weakness. Andrei kept a close eye on the construction of the Pentagon, even though he knew it was likely that the Americans were keeping his entourage for seeing anything they didn't want exposed. _The effort is still worth making. _Andrei told himself.

When he finally got to his destination, even Andrei was not able to suppress a small sigh of relief when he sat down. He was one of half a dozen generals invited to this meeting, sitting alongside a dozen American generals and admirals. In the center of the room was their Secretary of Defense, Caspar Weinberger. He was relatively new to his job and as much, Andrei was unsure about how competent he was. Even so, he had no difficulty reading the contempt on Weinberger's face.

_Sneer all you like, _Andrei thought. _One day, your nation too will learn the benefits of socialism. _The Americans had an oppressed population that was rife for revolution and indeed, the Soviet Union had been discretely encouraging it. Apart from a few, they had no luck so far, but elements within the Politburo were quite determined.

His face stood at attention when it was evident that they were about to inform them about the reason they had been requested here. They began with a powerpoint presentation and enlarged pictures on a whiteboard. _Why are they showing us pictures of an asteroid? _Soviet astronomers had detecting the same event, but reassured the Politburo that Earth was in no danger, although questions about its unusual speed continued.

Weinberger began to speak as the first of the images were being shown. Andrei's eyes widened in surprise. There was not a single object, there were dozens of them! "These photos were taken from Voyager 1 and Voyager 2." Weinberger explained. "As you can see, they do not resemble any celestial body in either shape or form." Andrei didn't need to be told what he could already see with his own eyes. Asteroids and comets were spherical, oval shaped, or looked lumpy, like a potato. These images were perfect rectangles, almost too perfect to be believed.

_What in the world is going on? _Andrei inquired, and studied the faces in the room. Most of his own comrades were asking themselves the same, while the Americans he spotted a mixture of fear and skepticism. He had already counted dozens and from such astronomical distances, he had no doubt that these were only a small fraction of the total.

The presentation continued, going through dozens of photos while every detail was explained. Radio signals determined their distance to be approximately 2.5 billion kilometers away, between the orbits of Saturn and Uranus. In chronological order, they revealed that as they came closer to Earth, more and more of these strange objects had been discovered.

"So far, the number stands at seventy-three; the true number of these unidentified objects is likely be between a few hundred and a few thousand." Weinburger explained. "More details will be forwarded as they get closer to Earth." Weinburger sat down and a four-star general took his place. Andrei did not recognize him, but studied his every move. After a moment, he realized that it was Andrew Marshall, considered one of the best strategists in the world.

"After extensive debate and study, we have finally come to a conclusion." He announced. "We believe that these objects are extraterrestrial in origin. As of now, we have not discovered where they came from. However, we have determined that these objects are metallic. Titanium appears to be a main component, along with assorted other metals that we have yet to identify."

He took a deep breath and after a moment's hesitation declared: "We believe these are extraterrestrial ships and are heading for Earth. While not everyone agrees, enough have come to the conclusion that preparations have to be made. Which is why you are here, gentlemen." It irked every member of the Soviet side, which Andrei suspected was intentional.

His initial response was skepticism and one of the other Soviet generals outright accused the Americans of attempting to manipulate them. "We have plenty of evidence, which I'm sure your astronomers can confirm." Marshall continued. "Our first is that initial reports believed that they would bypass earth, but as you can see through these photos, they have changed course, indicating human intelligence."If these were fakes, they were very convincing ones. He'd have to check with his own government to make sure, but Andrei was beginning to believe they were telling the truth.

"Second is that they appear to have... slowed down. Not to a great degree, but enough that we have detected it."

Andrei spoke up for the first time through his interpreter. He could speak passable English, but it was best that they didn't know that. "If this is true- I am still skeptical- but assuming you are correct, how much time do we have to prepare?"

"Currently, they are approximately 1.6 billion miles from earth." Marshall declared. "Operating on their current speed and the fact that they will have to slow down at some point if they wish to invade... two to three months before they arrive."

There were audible gulps all around the room. Two to three months? It would take at least a year, probably more, to fully transition to a war-time economy. Andrei knew his country was barely able to maintain the military they currently had; the structural problems in the Soviet Union were getting worse by the day, even if nobody wanted to admit it.

The meeting went on for another hour, but nobody else said anything new. Each side promised to meet again in order to coordinate defense plans and prepare for the inevitable. Andrei was running scenarios through his head about how best to defeat their unwanted visitors, however many of them there were. Even so, there was a small part of him that still hoped that this was nothing more than a hoax.

Those hopes were dashed when reports from the embassy stated that Soviet astronomers had discovered that the objects had changed course and were now headed directly for Earth. Andrei knew little about astronomy, but his knowledge was enough to know asteroids and comets did not spontaneously change course. Another race was coming, and based on the size of their fleet, it was almost certainly an invasion force.

There was one more concern: could the Americans be trusted, even in the face of an alien invasion? Andrei knew the possibility that they could betray them the instant the war was over, perhaps even before it. Even so, they had allied against Germany under the same circumstances. _Let's hope this doesn't prove too much for us to overcome._

XXXXXXXXXX

April 8, 1982

An ordinary day at work for Melanie at Macy's was standing at the register, scanning whatever her customers bought, while trying to deal with their difficulties as best she could. While irritating at times, it wasn't too difficult for her, being that she could always plaster a smile on her face, even if she was feeling miserable inside.

This was far from a typical day at work. Just about everyone was talking about what was going on, about every other customers was asking her opinion about what was going to happen, and most of the employees were so worried that they had trouble doing their jobs. She was somewhat impaired herself, and while normally her manager would chew her out, today he seemed to be completely out of it.

"So you really think it's going to happen?" she was asked for what seemed the hundredth time that day. Why did they think she knew anything about it? Nonetheless, she knew she had to provide an answer.

"I certainly hope not, sir." Melanie replied. "Is that everything you need?" The old woman nodded an affirmative and hurried out the store.

And really, Melanie couldn't blame all of them with the recent news. The draft had been reinstituted and the nation had gone to DEFCON 2, which made many believe that the Cold War was about to go hot. Just outside the store, she could hear vague noises of a crowd protesting the draft. At least they weren't causing riots here, the way they were in some parts of the city.

_How the hell could this have happened? _Melanie wondered. Most figured that one day, the world would end in nuclear fire, but to see the event so imminent chilled her to the bone. Cleveland was a major city and would almost certainly be a target. She'd gone through all the nuclear safety drills as a kid and read what she could on it, but none of that would make much difference if a nuclear bomb exploded on top of them.

She thought about evacuating the city, but what point would there be? They could barely support themselves now, much less being able to do so without employment. And while Cleveland was a certain target, it was impossible to know where it would be safe and where it wouldn't. Could they survive in the wild? Quite unlikely, as neither she nor her brother ever had any wilderness training.

"Ma'am, can you please pay attention?" Her latest customer asked. He looked even younger than she was. If she had to judge, he couldn't be a day over 16.

"Sorry about that; have a lot of my mind." Melanie apologized and scanned his items. "And did you find everything you were looking for?"

"Yes, thank you." He responded. "And don't worry about it; impending Armageddon's got us all scared." Melanie could only nod in agreement. She hated feeling powerless to do anything about her fate. She was always a fighter and faced her problems head on, but whether she lived or died depended on events that were completely out of her control.

Fortunately, her customer load was much lighter compared to most days, which meant her mistakes weren't too severe. Melanie bet anything that survival stores around the city were packed with frantic people trying to survive what they saw as the inevitable. She held out some hope that they might yet be able to resolve the crisis. Her parents told her about the Cuban Missile Crisis 20 years before, where everyone feared the worst, yet each side managed to resolve the crisis. She only hoped that they would be able to do so again.

Her boss let her off work an hour early. Things were relatively quiet and Melanie clearly wasn't up to working at her full potential. She apologized multiple times to her boss, who merely shrugged and said he understood. _Glad to know there are some decent people left in the world. _Melanie thought. Her last two bosses had been complete assholes, one of whom was even reluctant to give her time off to attend her Grandfather's funeral.

On the bus ride home, she saw multiple protest groups, all screaming at the top of her lungs. Signs were abundant, though Melanie didn't bother to read them; she had an inkling as to what they said. "Probably the same kind of signs they had in Vietnam." Melanie muttered. Many of them looked old enough to have participated in the protests. Police officers were watching the larger ones, just in case things got too out of hand.

As concerned as she was that they might turn violent, part of Melanie wanted to join them. She dreaded the prospect of war as much as anyone else and with the draft reinstituted, worried that her friends and her brother would end up being drafted and forced to fight against the Soviet Union.

The instant she got home, she spotted Thomas on the phone talking with who could only be their mother. "No, Mom, we're perfectly fine." Thomas reassured. "We're nowhere near the riots right now. Melanie should be home in about... never mind, she just walked through the door. Do you wish to talk to her?" He handed the phone to Melanie.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Melanie, thank god, I've been so worried." her mother Emily took a deep breath. "Are you guys all right? I read in the newspaper that Cleveland had riots everywhere."

"We're fine, mom; I haven't seen anything like that." Melanie tried to reassure. She wanted to downplay the severity of the situation, because otherwise, her parents would spend their entire day worrying. "I just got home from work. How are you?"

"I heard about all the riots in Cleveland and I had to make sure you two were ok." Emily responded. "They say they've had stabbing, shootings, even deaths, and I know you guys live in a rough neighborhood."

That was just a typical day in Cleveland. As kids, they lived in a low-crime neighborhood and were somewhat sheltered from the grim reality of what it was like in large parts of the city. As adults, they couldn't afford to live there once their parents moved. Melanie decided not to mention that to her, as tempting as it was. "Look, Mom, we're fine."

"The rioting has been in downtown and on the East Side, some distance away from us." Thomas pointed out. She momentarily forgot how good his hearing was. "The count stands at 8 deaths, and thirty hospitalized." Melanie resisted the urge to slap her forehead. That was just going to make things even worse.

"Well, I'm glad you guys are ok, but be careful out there, all right?" Emily all but pleaded. "I don't want to hear that something's happened to you guys."

"We can take care of ourselves, Mom." Melanie promised. Or more accurately, she could. While her brother had a level of intelligence she could never hope to match, he was almost incapable of standing up for himself. School was the most miserable time of his live, a time that still affected him, even despite her efforts to defend him. "We'll stay indoors and not take any unnecessary chances. Where's Dad?"

"He's at one of the protest groups right now." Emily declared. "I was about to join him, but I wanted to make sure the two of you were ok. Damn Reagan; I knew his Arms Race was going to cause trouble. No one is drafting my kid! I don't care what that son of a bitch says!"

"Thanks, Mom." Melanie responded politely. A political debate was the last thing she needed right now. Her parents had met and fallen in love at a Vietnam protest rally. To her, it seemed like part of it was an effort to recapture their youth, even though there was legitimate concern as well. "Are you guys all right?" She didn't know much about what it was like in Charleston. Their parents always visited them on special occasions, instead of the other way around.

"We've got plenty of protests against the draft, but nothing violent so far." Emily stated. "As long as we don't have any feds trying to make us appear violent to discredit us, we should be fine."

"Well, I hope you can bring about a peaceful solution." Melanie told her. In fact, she didn't care who did, so long as they somehow managed to resolve whatever provoked the latest crisis.

"Sweetie, maybe you and your brother should leave the city; Cleveland is certainly going to be a target if things get hot." Emily suggested.

"I would if I could, Mom." Melanie replied. She was feeling like a trapped rat, and knew that some of her co-workers were thinking about it as well. "What have you been doing to prepare?'

"We've got a small civil defense bunker with enough food to last about 3 weeks and I've been discretely buying more." Emily informed. "I'm a lot more worried about you guys. Cleveland is likelier to be hit. Have you been stocking up on food?"

"I know; I've been doing my best not to think about it." Melanie's best hadn't been very good. If she was lucky, she could push it out of her mind for about... ten minutes. "We'll just have to wait and see what happens. I hate thinking that way, but there's nothing we can do to change things."

"I'll be praying for both of you." Emily informed. "I love you, Melanie. I'll speak with you later."

"I love you too, Mom." Melanie hung up and took a deep breath, trying to hide her annoyance. Honestly, it was like her parents lived in a dream world at time. They were used to having money, used to living in a decent neighborhood, and couldn't comprehend that not everyone could prepare for disaster in the same way.

Even so... they did mean well, something she had to remember. She considered her options, wondering yet again if it was possible to get out of the city. "What are we going to do?" Melanie asked herself, only realizing after the fact that she spoke out loud.

"That all depends on whether or not this explodes into nuclear war." Thomas stated. "If a bomb explodes on top of us, no. We don't have any kind of fallout shelter, and evacuating would be impossible being that everyone in the city would be trying to get out. If anything happens, the subway would be the best thing we could come up with. Concrete is a surprisingly effective shield against radiation. A group of people only 300 meters away from Ground Zero survived because they were holed up in a bank. Then of course we have food and water to deal with."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Melanie sighed. Essentially, they were screwed if anything happened. Not that she wasn't aware of it already, but she still hated having it pointed out to her. _Course, I never thought his compulsion to only drink bottled water, no matter what, would ever come in handy. _She thought. It meant they'd have a couple weeks worth, assuming they weren't vaporized.

"Even so, we should probably stock up on food." Thomas admitted. "At least, if we can. People are emptying every store in the city right now, I'd bet. We're got enough to last about three days before we have to fight our way through the supermarket."

Melanie opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a series of gunshots interrupted her. She immediately hit the floor, about to yell to her brother to get down, only to see that he already had. Judging from the noise, that was close by, maybe a couple hundred feet. Their neighborhood wasn't as bad as some, but they did hear gunshots on occasion and with the political crisis, she knew some people wouldn't care what the consequences were tomorrow.

The shots ended but it was several minutes before she dared to venture from the floor. "Baseball bat's not going to do much good against that." Thomas stated, pushing himself up with a groan. "They'd have a bit of a range advantage. You all right?"

"I'm fine." Melanie informed. "Not like we've never heard gunshots before." _Although not this close, _she added to herself and wished she hadn't. She wondered how Fred lived in such a lifestyle, and a new pang of depression hit her in waves at the thought of him.

"Probably should have pulled you behind me, but I didn't think of it." Thomas admitted. "I'm not brave, never have been." Melanie decided to ignore him; she was used to his negativity and pessimism.

"Still... I think we've got a real problem."

XXXXXXXXXX

April 13, 1982: (1.34 billion miles from Earth)

"We have a problem, Shiplords." Atvar pronounced, not for the first time. The other shiplords had been woken early and were currently on video chat. "The Tosevites are considerably more advanced than our probe would have led us to believe."

"That would be a dramatic understatement." Straha said acidly. "I assume the exalted fleetlord has a plan." What was meant to be an honorific sounded like an insult through his mouth.

He decided to pretend he hadn't noticed it. "Shiplords, we have received radio signals from what can only be Tosev 3. This provides considerable difficulties for us. Still, I have every confidence that we will prevail."

"How exact is our knowledge about the technological capabilities of the Tosevites?" Kirel inquired.

"Due to our distance from Tosev, that knowledge is currently limited." Atvar was forced to admit. "However, most of the signals we received come from the Northern Hemisphere, indicating that the level of technology is not uniform across the planet. This tells us where the natives will give us the greatest resistance."

"But they are still behind us!" one of the shiplords protested. "Even if they have advanced so quickly, we should still be able to defeat them!"

"We are overlooking the fact that if their technology has grown, so has their population!" Another pointed out. "We believed their population at the time the probe was sent to be three hundred million! How many are there now?"

Atvar nearly winced; the shiplord- Trssek was his name- had a valid point. If their population was the same, the Race would be able to overcome them, increased technology or not. However, with advances in Medicine, that was unlikely to be the case. "Our scans have not been able to come up with a reliable estimate." Kirel admitted. "We will know more details as we move closer to the planet."

"If I may make a suggestion, then..." Straha stood up to make himself more prominent among the others, even if they were not communicating in person. "I recommend that we change our initial invasion plans."

The first response from Atvar was horror. Deviating from any carefully constructed plan, like the one for the invasion of Tosev 3, was anathema to the Race. Under the circumstances, however, he was forced to at least hear him out. "And what do you suggest, Shiplord?" Atvar asked sarcastically. "Do keep in mind that the plans were mapped out and solidified for ten years before the conquest fleet left."

"That was when we believed the Tosevites sword-swinging savages." Straha all but smirked. "They have managed to send satellites, however primitive, from Tosev and through their Solar System. It would be addled not to prepare for industrialized warfare. Kirel managed that some areas of the planet are more technologically advanced than others. I suggest that instead of evenly distributing our forces, priority is given to the advanced empires of Tosev 3. Take them out first and we can win this war."

Atvar stayed silent for a minute. Much as he wanted to dismiss his rival's words, Straha did make a valid argument. If the technology spread was uneven, it made logical sense to take out the most advanced empires first. "That may work in principle, although a proper rebalancing of our forces will have to be carried out." That was as much as he was willing to give him.

"And if necessary, we can destroy their forces with explosive-metal bombs." Straha added. "We have seen no evidence that they possess similar weapons."

"The planet must be kept intact for the Colonization Fleet." Atvar refused. Not that their current supply would be anywhere near enough to destroy it, far from it, but it would poison many areas from some time. Even so, it wasn't just Tosev 3 that they wanted. The Tosevite's solar system had far more resources than any of the Empire's three worlds, including Tosev 5 and Tosev 6, which could offer an almost unlimited supply of fuel for their starships. "The emperor has ordered us to conquer Tosev 3 and it shall be done." They lowered their heads at the mention of the Emperor.

XXXXXXXXXX

I should have the next one up in a few days. There were a few interesting scientific articles I ran into, stating that the first planet we find that can support life is more likely to be a desert planet than one like Earth. In other words, resembling the Race's home world.


	3. Chapter 3

May 4, 1982:

Andrei rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to stay awake. He had not slept in close to forty-eight hours and only prodigious amounts of coffee and military discipline kept him from succumbing to dreams. He wasn't the only one, far from it.

Ever since it had been confirmed that aliens were on a direct course to Earth, the Soviet Union had been preparing with every resource available. Not that it was an easy feat, with the structure looking more fragile by the day, but none of them knew what their enemy's capabilities were. Nor was there any consideration that this was a peaceful missions. _If this was peaceful exploration, they wouldn't be sending hundreds of ships. _Andrei scoffed to himself.

One thing they did have, though, was bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. They were conscripting as many able-bodied men as they could in preparation for what was about to come. They gave them whatever training they had but they did not have the luxury of time, meaning that many of the men they were calling up were likely going to die.

_Sad, but necessary. _They fought the early stages of the Great Patriotic War under the same circumstances. If you could carry a gun, you were a soldier, regardless of how unqualified you might be considered in peacetime. He himself became a partisan when his town was overrun and every other member of his family slaughtered. "Prayed we'd never go through that again," Andrei sighed to himself before remembering that he was calling out to a God that he technically wasn't supposed to believe in.

In fact, they were using it to prepare their overall strategy to make sure that the Soviet Union survived. Not that most soldiers actually knew they were facing an alien threat. Most assumed that they were mobilizing to fight NATO; Andrei was one of the very few people of his rank to know the truth. In preparation for nuclear war, the military was spread out throughout the country in order to minimize how many of them a thermonuclear bomb would be able to kill at once.

War plans were also complicated in the fact that nobody knew just where the aliens were going to land, what part of the country would be considered ideal for them. Andrei expected that they would land in great force in numerous locations, likely positioned so that they could link up with one another and conquer the Soviet Union one section at a time. _Which means they will likely be able to destroy our divisions piecemeal. _Andrei realized. _Nichevo. _It was a risk they would have to take. If they placed too many soldiers at any individual part of the nation, it would hinder their redeployment if the aliens landed elsewhere.

The latest reports from both the Americans and their own astronomers indicated that the fleet was currently between Jupiter and Saturn, meaning that they were running out of time. However, they were all but in a wartime economy. Against the Americans and their current buildup, it was on course to bankrupting the Soviet Union. Against their unwanted visitors, it was a major advantage.

He decided to see if he could get some sleep. Andrei knew he would do his country little service if he was too exhausted to think coherently. His body shut down the instant his head hit the pillow.

It seemed as if he had barely slept at all when his adjutant, Mikhail Bendlin, woke him, informing him that there was a meeting he was ordered to attend to. Because he was expecting it, Andrei let his screams die in the back of his throat. A stiff glare was more than sufficient. "I apologize, general, but my orders..."

"Never mind; tell them I will be there promptly." Andrei ordered, and Bendlin ran off to obey. His body was weak, but sheer willpower had been enough to advance in the Red Army to where he was today.

In order to hasten his trip, he swallowed his pride and took his wheelchair. Their current predicament was far more important than any pride he might have had. Even so, it took him longer than he would have liked.

He found himself to be among the first Soviets there. In spite of everything the Soviet Union had done, in spite of how urgently they had to prepare for extraterrestrial invasion, some of them simply could not take the idea of precise time seriously. He let out a small sigh and observed that the generals, admirals, and diplomats that had arrived were feeling similar irritation. Most of the European officials had arrived as well.

Gradually, the others showed up, not even being aware that there was a problem. Getting down to business may have been a capitalist phrase, but it felt appropriate.

"So let us be frank, gentlemen: how do we defeat the alien menace?" British General Andrew Maddox asked, getting right to the point. "We're running out of time."

"I believe we're going to have to tell the public the truth eventually." Tristan White pointed out, a representative from Canada. "Our efforts at recruiting soldiers for defense has gone... less than stellar." Andrei had heard the reports of riots and protests all throughout NATO against conscription.

"No doubt they believe the Cold War's about to go hot." Henry Lloyd nodded. He was a relatively new general in the U.S. and as such, the Soviet Union's information about him was limited. "Not an entirely unreasonable assumption, but if we tell them the truth, we'll have less trouble with recruitment."

Even the Soviets were having trouble with it. They had suppressed all riots and all major cities were under Martial Law, but even so, protests continued. Andrei's first response was to advise suppressing it, believing that news of an imminent invasion would cause a panic, doing almost as much damage as the aliens themselves.

"I believe that may be necessary." A diplomat from France nodded. "They've gotten close enough to where even amateur astronomers are beginning to detect them. We're going to need every advantage possible to defeat them."

"In that case, why are you abandoning us?" Arturo Vercetti of Italy demanded of the Americans. "We are in an alliance, just in case you've forgotten." Andrei had read those reports and looked at the general with barely concealed scorn. They had 400,000 troops in Europe and were in the process of withdrawing some of them, although they couldn't remove them all even if we wanted to.

"We need more in order to defend our own homeland, being that our recruitment efforts have not gone as smoothly as we hoped." Benjanim Cox, the American's most senior diplomat pointed out. "Moreover, we are still keeping troops in your country, and providing your forces with technical assistance."

"How many of them can we expect to be fighting?" Maddox asked them. "All this talk about strategy is grand, but if we don't know how many there are, it's not going to mean much."

"At their current position, we've detected close to 1,000 ships from our observatories and the telescope we launched into High Earth Orbit two weeks ago." Lloyd informed. "Their ships are approximately 6/10ths of a kilometer in diameter and based on their dimensions... probably between 15 and 35 million extraterrestrials."

Gasps and looks of horror filled the room. Between 15 and 35 million? Even at full wartime mobilization, it would take a couple of years to recruit that many soldiers. And they only had slightly more than a month to prepare before they arrived. Doubt about their ability to successfully resist began to surface.

Only the Soviets stayed calm. "This is not the news we wanted, but are you really going to give up so easily?" Andrei asked them. "Are you going to let your country, your people, the human race be subjugated simply because you are afraid? No shots have been fired as of yet, and half of you look like you're ready to surrender! The Soviet Union is ready to fight, despite the odds against us. What does that say about the rest of you?!" With their attitude, they would have lost the Great Patriotic War.

"I believe... he is correct." White admitted. "The situation is not optimal, to put it mildly, but we have faced overwhelming odds before and triumphed. We can do so again."

"We will not give up and we will not surrender." Lloyd declared. "Our president has made this clear in the strictest possible terms." Gradually, the others came around, though there was still uncertainty.

"So... how are we going to coordinate our defenses?" Vercetti asked. Soviet satellites were confirming that Italian troops were moving into the mountains, likely a wise strategy on their part.

_Nevertheless, we will fight on. _Andrei thought. _All of us know the consequences of failing to do so._

XXXXXXXXXX

May 9, 1982:

Just leaving their home was becoming an increasingly dangerous thing to do. Melanie was no stranger to the peril of wandering around a rough neighborhood, but things were worse than ever now.

It seemed as if many people believed with nuclear war imminent, they decided to do whatever they wanted. Detroit was in a city-wide riot; there was no place to hide. Even the wealthy communities were being hit with violence, even though it was less severe.

"Seems to be getting worse every day now." Thomas sighed. Gunshots echoed throughout the neighborhood, proving his point. Their stockpile of food was running low and they knew that sooner or later, they would have to venture out again. He always insisted on coming with her; even Melanie did not argue against that now. "When people get scared, they get stupid." Police sirens were heard in the distance.

"You can't really blame them from being scared." Melanie sighed. It'd been over a month and the crisis was just as great as ever. Their parents were calling every day, worried that they had been among the victims in the city. She didn't know the exact death toll, but knew that it was now in the triple digits. "Maybe... maybe the world really will end." She hated voicing her fears, as a part believed that by doing so, she was making it more likely to happen. It didn't make sense, but a lot didn't make sense anymore.

"The world itself, no, but a lot of people will end up dead." Thomas informed with an irritatingly precise voice. "I've been reading some weird things on the news, though."

"Like what?" Melanie inquired.

"Apparently the Soviets are completely out of Afghanistan." Thomas stated. "They were committed to that war, despite all of the obstacles, and now they've withdrawn in less than a month. That's just plain weird, to put it mildly. And withdrawing all their support from Iraq at the same time as us? Not only that, but two divisions were withdrawn from Europe. You'd think if war was imminent, we'd be sending more troops over there, but they're all being recalled."

"So does that mean... there's a resolution?" Melanie asked, pondering the new information. He spent most of his spare time watching the news and reading the paper ever since it began.

"I'm not sure; could be some tit-for-tat exchange." Thomas stated. "All of this is just speculation, though. Reagan's not even talking to reporters, making this even more strange. Just have to hope for the best, I suppose." At the moment, though, there were more immediate danger, like being robbed, mugged, or killed.

_Every criminal in the city's taking advantage of this. _Melanie thought. They weren't the only ones, either. Even ordinary, law-abiding citizens were out there, settling scores or just causing chaos. New York, Chicago, New Orleans, and Baltimore were among the cities where the National Guard had come to restore order. In Cleveland, however, the mayor was stubbornly insisting that the police force alone could keep the streets safe, something that looked highly unlikely given the massive riot.

They heard a knock on the door. Thomas immediately grabbed his baseball bat, while Melanie held her switchblade in her hand. She initially thought about just pretending nobody was home, but with the lights on, it was unlikely to fool anyone. "Are you there, Melanie?" she heard a voice asked.

"Yeah, hold on." She responded, breathing a sigh of relief. It was Mark Toreno, one of her friends from High School. She opened the door, still prepared to fight if it came to that. He wouldn't be the only decent person to turn into a monster.

"Hey, Melanie, good to see you." Mark hugged her briefly. He was 6'3, towering over both of them. Upon closer examination, she saw a cut on his eyes and his ragged appearance. "Glad to see someone can survive out there."

"What the hell happened to you?" Melanie wondered, hearing her brother put down the baseball bat.

"Some assholes burned my apartment down; only sheer luck that I wasn't inside it at the time." Mark explained. "I was... I was hoping I could stay with you guys for a while."

"Suppose there's strength in numbers," Thomas shrugged. "You hear about all the cities calling in the National Guard?"

"Yeah, doesn't look like such a bad idea at the moment." Mark admitted. "Things are just nuts out there."

"Yes, we've figured that out." Thomas replied dryly. "Why do you think we're staying inside?"

"All right, come in." Melanie gestured. "You can stay with us for a while." She decided to overlook her brother's annoyance at that. "How is everyone?"

"My girlfriend's with her parents now that we don't have a home anymore." Mark sighed. Melanie didn't bother to ask about his. She knew he came from a dysfunctional family, even if he always declined to give any details about it. "One thing's for sure: I'm not going to be able to make it to my interview tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's disappointing." Thomas stated, trying and failing to hide his contempt. He'd always disliked her friends, ever since they were kids. Not that he didn't sometimes have a reason to; Melanie still shuddered at some of the people she hung out with back when she was a party girl. Both Mark and herself managed to pull themselves out of that lifestyle, but Thomas still judged him on it nonetheless.

Either Mark didn't notice it or decided to pretend he didn't. "Still, good to see you guys are doing all right. How's your job going?"

"It's all right, at least on the days I'm working." Melanie responded. "I like the people there, but honestly, like some of these customers are just stupid. I mean... I'm pointing to the menu and they still don't know how much anything costs."

"Yeah, I do that a lot." Mark chuckled. "Anyway, thanks for letting me stay here for a while; I appreciate it."

"Yeah, don't mention it." Thomas waved his hand in dismissal. "There's food in the kitchen if you want anything." He grabbed the remote and turned on the television.

"Do you have to be so rude to everyone I bring over?" Melanie hissed when Mark was out of earshot.

"What are you talking about?" Thomas inquired.

"I'm tired of you treating my sh... my friends like shit." Melanie snarled. "You could at least pretend to get along with him; he's a cool guy."

"He also broke into my room and stole my wallet last time he visited." Thomas reminded her.

"Look, I know what he used to be, but he's changed." Melanie informed him, trying hard not to lose her temper. "I mean, like, he used to be an alcoholic, but he quit freaking two years ago! Can you at least give him a chance?"

"And I still think you're too trusting, but fine." Thomas sighed. "You're going to do it regardless of what I say, anyway." He sighed and turned on the television. Hopefully, there was something decent on to watch, although that was always dubious at best.

But where the trio were expecting to see a sitcom, they saw Ronald Reagan in the White House instead, looking unusually somber. "My fellow Americans, I regret to inform you..." All three of them looked at each other with horror. This could only mean one thing: World War III. Melanie had the urge to look outside to see if any ICBMs were about to land on Cleveland, not that it would do any of them any good.

When they at last began to pay attention, they heard him say: "On March 6, unusual objects were detected in the solar system. After weeks of careful examination and debate, we determined them to be extraterrestrial in origin. Experts believe that these are interstellar spacecraft headed for Earth with the intention of colonizing us."

"Has that old man lost his mind?" Mark demanded.

"Either that or aliens really are headed for us; not sure which is more frightening." Thomas stated.

"All attempts we have made to communicate with them had been met with silence. Ever since, we have been coordinating with both NATO and the Soviet Union about how best to defend this country. Whatever our differences, we are all human and have allied together to face this nemesis from the stars.

"Our estimates indicate that they will arrive in five to six weeks. I ask all Americans to resist the invaders in every way possible and not to give in to despair. We will hold firm, we will resist, and we will stand united! America has never been forced to submit to a foreign power, nor will we ever."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Melanie snarked. "Would be nice if they told us earlier so we had more time to prepare."

"Since when do they tell us anything?" Mark remarked, but decided to listen to the rest of the speech.

"As commander-in-chief, I have decided to declare a state of emergency throughout the nation. All measures necessary will be taken in order to withstand the coming invasion and preserve the greatest country this world has ever known.

"I will not mince words. Our nation is in great danger, the likes of which we have not known since our war of independence. But I have faith in the American people, I have faith in our cause, and I have faith in humanity. No matter how long this great struggle may take, we will fight on, to our inevitable triumph. Thank you and may God bless the United States of America."

"Aliens are coming for us?" Melanie asked in astonishment. All of a sudden, the Soviets didn't seem like such dangerous foes. They knew their enemy and how to counter him, but who knew what their unwanted visitors were capable of?

"Least now I know what all those mysterious objects in space are." Thomas stated. When the other two looked at him, he explained: "I read a few articles about it; I just figured they were asteroids, not alien ships. Never would have expected any kind of First Contact situation."

"You think there's any way they could be coming in peace?" Mark wondered, clutching at straws.

"Doubt it, if they came all this way." Melanie mentioned.

"That's assuming he hasn't simply gone senile." Mark reminded. "Aliens from outer space? Sounds like a bad science fiction story."

"I read a couple articles in the paper about objects detected from our observatories in our solar system." Thomas reminded. "It was buried on page 65, but I read that they were going far too fast to be a comet or meteor, and we had not yet identified what they were made of. Sounds crazy, I know, but they might just be aliens."

XXXXXXXXXX

May 14, 1982:

"Do you understand me?" A voice repeated. From the sounds of me, whoever it was happened to be repeating himself.

"Yes, I understand you, superior sir." Wuppah declared. Even though the Race had been perfecting Cold Sleep for tens of thousands of years, there existed a possibility, however remote, that something could go wrong with the procedure. "Is the conquest about to begin?"

"Actually, you have been woken up earlier than you were supposed to." the physician informed. "The Fleetlord had ordered that all combat pilots be woken up early in order to prepare."

"So... where are we exactly?" Wuppah hissed, undoing the straps on his belt. It took a couple minutes, but he managed to do so. The instant he did, he immediately floated up, hovering just a few inches below the ceiling.

"We will be passing Tosev 5 within a few days." The physician replied. "Once you have recovered from Cold Sleep, the commander wishes to speak with you."

"It shall be done." Wuppah agreed. His fingerclaws gripped the ceiling as he headed to the commander's briefing room. He kept both eye turrets out for any approaching males in order to avoid a collision. Seeing none, he grabbed the nearest metal bar he could find and propelled himself to his destination. Wuppah moved methodically, carefully, always on the lookout.

When he finally arrived, he saw that only a few of his fellow pilots had been awoken. Wuppah strapped himself down in one of the chairs and waited for the others to arrive. Obviously, this was important enough that this was news that everyone needed to hear.

He was looking forward to an easy conquest. Just before he had gone under, he and all other males who had volunteered during the Soldier's Time had been informed of the level of technology they were face. _Swords, arrows, spears, and animals. _Wuppah doubted the conquest would take even a tenth of the year, claiming a fourth world for the Race.

_Could that be different, though? _Wuppah wondered. He had expected one last brief just before they went into action, but not while they were still hundreds of millions of kilometers away from Tosev 3. _Maybe they've advanced faster than our probe indicated. _For a male of the Race, he had an unusual amount of imagination. Still, it seemed impossible that they could have advanced significantly over the past 1700 years.

Other pilots wandered in, looking just as confused as he did. Some were excited, believing that they had arrived and were about to depart. Not that there was likely to be much need for aircraft; with such primitive foes, the ground forces would be more than sufficient. Still, he couldn't help but wonder.

He waited as patiently as he could for the others to be brought out of cold sleep. However, he wasn't as patient as he would have liked and after a while, found himself drumming his fingerclaws against the arm of the seat. Based on the concerned look that their Supreme Group Leader had, Wuppah was beginning to think that his suspicion was correct.

After what wasn't far from a daytenth, the last of the pilots on the 42nd Emperor Jonsed arrived and the Supreme Group leader began to speak. "Males of the Race, you have been woken prematurely because the situation is not what we had expected." Due to discipline and the ingrained training to obey a superior, there were no muttering looks. Even so, there were a lot of curious glances.

_I think I might be right, _Wuppah thought. He wondered if any of his fellow pilots had come to the same conclusion. _Apparently not. _Most of them simply looked mystified.

"Recent scans of Tosev 3 have indicated that the natives are considerably more advanced than we believed." their commander informed, using an empathetic cough to state how much they had advanced. "Indeed, we have even discovered that they possess killercraft, albeit more primitive. We have yet to discover all the details, but even the ones we do know have informed us that this conquest will be more difficult than anticipated."

A hologram of Tosev 3 was put on the screen. The planet looked simply... strange to Wuppah. He had seen it before, but it still looked odd. Home had only eight percent of its surface covered by water and Rabotev 2 and Halless 1 had a similar composition. Tosev 3 was... different, to put it mildly.

Next were holograms of some of the killercraft that the Race observed. There were few exact details, but based on its shape and armament (An F-16, a fact unknown to Wuppah) wasn't much less advanced than the killercraft possessed. Its only serious disadvantage was that it ran on hydrocarbons, giving it a much shorter range.

"This is the most advanced killercraft that we have yet detected and what all of you can expect to face when the invasion begins." The commander informed them. "As of now, we do not know how many of them the Tosevites possess, but we are being forced to change our strategy considerably. We have less than two-tenths of a year to do so, however."

Almost everyone froze when they heard that. Even Wuppah did not expect the Tosevite's technological advancement to be so great! When they went into action, they would be facing killercraft that could come close to watching them in combat. _You wanted action; you got it. _Before Wuppah had left home, he complained that he wouldn't really be able to participate in the invasion before ground forces had completed the conquest. _Be careful what you ask to hatch from an egg._

"With this being truth, how are we going to defeat the Tosevites?" Wuppah inquired. He did not fancy being shot down by the enemy; he was being forced to realize that he and all his other fellow males were not nearly as invincible as they previously believed themselves to be.

"The fleetlord and his subordinates are currently planning a rebalance of our strategic forces." The commander informed. "It is fortunate that we have a numerical advantage, even if our killercraft are still superior. Beyond that, I am not yet authorized to say anything."

The briefing continued, with certain sections of the northern hemisphere lightning up, indicating where the most advanced civilizations of Tosev 3 lived. _How many different empires did they have? _Wuppah knew Home had been the same way before The Unification, but he still had a difficult time imagining the concept of multiple governments. Why were some more advanced than others? Why were most of the advanced ones apparently in the Northern Hemisphere? All the questions were unanswerable. _Nevertheless, the Emperor has ordered it. _He cast down his eye-turrets at the mere thought of his sovereign.

"Means we'll be able to play a role after all." The male next to him hissed. It was Ventro, who was assigned to hovering killercraft. Wuppah felt the same way, but he knew that the Tosevites could just as easily kill him. "Still, it's too chilly an egg for my tastes. You wouldn't think a planet so far from its star would even be habitable."

Wuppah agreed; some parts of it would be pleasant, but too much of it wasn't. His mind was mostly on the briefing, though. The commander had moved on from military forces of their opponent to the information they had gleaned from their probe 1,690 years ago. Its distance from its sun, the natural resources, and its age. Not that it had much relevance to what they were about to get themselves into, but the information was good to have.

"So what do you think about all of this?" Wuppah heard a killercraft pilot ask a comrade.

"It sounds like they're jerking our tailstumps." He responded. "It just isn't possible; I'm telling you!"

_I have a bad feeling about this. _Wuppah said to himself.

May 23, 1982:

For the first time, Atvar was beginning to think it would be wise to turn back. The news just got more discouraging the more they learned of Tosev 3.

They detect radio signals coming from the planet, aimed directly at their fleet. It meant that the Race had completely lost the element of surprise, and the Tosevites knew they were coming. They had even sent messages to them, which as of yet, their researchers had not been able to translate.

"The Tosevites capable of going from swords to space travel in the blink of an eye; who would possibly have imagined this?" Kirel stated.

"Truth," Atvar agreed. Should they turn back? Should they simply abandon the conquest of Tosev 3? It would mean that he would gain the notoriety of being the first fleetlord to abandon a conquest. He wanted to be remembered, but not for infamy. On the other side, it was his duty to care for more than his individual glory. He needed to take into account all the males of the Race under his command.

"Even so, the computer projections do show us defeating them." Kirel pointed out. "While their technology is comparable to our own in military terms, ours is the greater quantity, both of equipment and soldiers."

"Yes, I have seen the computer projections." Atvar reminded. They also stated that they would lose between 10 and 20 percent of his men in the process. _2 to 4 million males dead in order to conquer this planet? _He had visibly recoiled when he first saw the projections and even now, his legs became weak at the prospect of such heavy casualties. "They do not fill me with confidence."

"It is quite horrifying and much more difficult than we imagined when we left Home." Kirel mentioned in a dramatic understatement. He looked his superior over carefully. "Do you... intend to cancel the invasion?"

Atvar wished that his subordinate did not vocalize his private doubts. Yes, he had been thinking about it, thinking about it ever since they discovered Tosevite probes in their solar system. Why they had advanced in the blink of an eye, he did not know. Could they successfully overcome them?

"No... no, I do not." Atvar finally stated with some reluctance. "The emperor has ordered us to bring this world under his dominion, and it shall be done. Plans are already being written up in an effort to compensate for the changed situation." He had ordered them to draw them up by the time they were in orbit, almost immediately by the way the Race reckoned such things. Because of that, they were likely to be imperfect, but it was obvious that their original plan was going to have to be adjusted.

"Permission to speak, exalted fleetlord?" Kirel asked. When Atvar gave the affirmative hand gesture, he went on. "I think that we can beat them... provided we can crush them quickly before they bring their population and industrial advantage to hear." Atvar wished he hadn't mentioned the last part, though he himself had come to the same conclusion.

XXXXXXXXXX

Next chapter is when the actual combat begins between us and the Race. I'm open to any suggestions for the story that readers may have.


	4. Chapter 4

June 7, 1982:

Wuppah was the fifth to fly his killercraft out of the starship. He kept one of his eye turrets on his instruments at all time. No Tosevite aircraft had yet been detected, but that didn't mean they weren't out there.

"Looks like we may have taken them by surprise after all." Nesser declared. "Not one big Ugly aircraft in sight right now!"

"Kind of a shame; I was looking forward to a bit of action." Atvar agreed. Atvar was a fairly common name among the Race, but even so, his fellow pilots occasionally poked fun at him for having the same name as the fleetlord.

"Don't forget your duty; we need to clear the area so our starships can land." Hefron reminded. "Remember: their killercraft may be inferior to our own, but they're more than capable of killing you if you give them the opportunity. Always be alert."

"It shall be done." Wuppah stated. It sounded like pointless advice to him, but listening to some of his flightmates' arrogance made him think that it was nonetheless valid. Electromagnetic pulse bombs had already been launched prior to the main air assault, hopefully knocking out the Tosevite's capability to keep them from landing.

A few minutes later, the first enemy aircraft were picked up. Wuppah was counting dozens of them, close to a hundred in the area. Warning was shouted, but everyone was already alert. In the immediate vicinity, they outnumbered the Tosevites two to one.

"Let's see how well they can cope with this!" Atvar exclaimed, firing half a dozen missiles in their direction. Wuppah hissed; they were still 40 Tlocks (80 kilometers) away, not exactly optimal for their weaponry. However, they were closing fast and would be within optimal firing range in less than a minute.

Three of the missiles hit their targets, three Tosevite aircraft crashing into the ground. Wuppah chose a pair of target and fired missiles of his own. He knew better than to underestimate the enemy and was not about to take any unnecessary chances.

The dogfight was not one-sided, however. The Tosevites were already firing back, and Wuppah detected dozens of air-to-air missiles headed directly for them. He thanked the Spirits of Emperors Past that they had throughout to bring along jammer aircraft. Still, he wasn't about to rely on them alone. He took evasive action, intending to make himself as much of a moving target as he could.

Most pilots managed to survive the sortie, but five of their killercraft were hit, and only one of them was fast enough to eject before impact. _That could have been me, _He realized. He knew it was possible, but didn't think any of their weapons would have been able to hit them through all their jamming equipment.

"May the purple itch get under their scales.." Wuppah hissed, firing three more air-to-air missiles at his opponent. All of them were now within 25 kilometers of each other, with hundreds of missiles being fired on both sides.

Wuppah felt himself slammed into his seat as he maneuvered through the fray, being covered by three of his fellow pilots. He forced himself not to black out evading a pair of Tosevite missiles. One lost him, but he was forced to use many of his flares to intercept the second. That had been entirely too close.

He was forced to admit, the Tosevites had courage. Despite the horrific losses they had taken, none of them were attempting to retreat. If anything, the loss of their comrades only made them more infuriated. "How many killercraft do they have?" Nesser snarled in frustration. "We've got more headed our way!"

"Affirmative; I'm spotting at least another 50 killercraft, probably coming from a nearby base." Atvar stated. "Least we know where our target is now."

Wuppah hoped that they would be unprepared, but privately doubted it. Tosevites losses were much heavier than theirs, but even the losses they had taken in just a few minutes were considerable. "Then we'd better hit them before they have a chance to do the same." Hefron advised.

"It shall be done." Wuppah agreed, turning his killercraft to meet the new threat. Some enemy aircraft from the original group were still capable of fighting, however, and succeeded in bringing down another half a dozen Race aircraft before being shot down themselves.

"Squadrons 1 through 4, break off and destroy the Tosevite airbase." All of them received a message from the highest-ranking male in the area. Being that Wuppah was in squadron 2, he immediately obeyed orders, although he still hoped that the remaining squadrons had enough numbers and enough missiles to defeat the aircraft that were only two minutes away.

"This should be a lot easier." Atvar's mouth hung open. "Their killercraft are more formidable in the air than expected, yes, but on the ground, they are nothing more than giant targets."

"Assuming we destroy them before they manage to get them into the air." Hefron reminded. "We've done well so far. Another few minutes, we'll have won."

However, as it turned out, the Tosevites still had a few surprises remaining for them. Wuppah detected more missiles headed for his killercraft. His eye turrets wandered to the radar, confused at the lack of enemy craft in the immediate area. It took him a few moments to realize that they were being fired from the ground.

"Superior sir, we've got a further complication." Wuppah declared, switching to air-to-ground missile. He only had four, however, so he knew he had to choose his targets carefully. "Got him!" He fired two of them at the Tosevite's missile launchers, both hitting their targets.

While even less accurate than the ones of the enemy's aircraft, a couple of missiles did hit their mark, sending three Race killercraft crashing into the ground. Wuppah hissed in fury and made a mental promise to make the Big Uglies pay for the losses they'd inflicted.

"Okay, that's another three down." Atvar declared. Most of the launchers were destroyed, while the others... were most likely playing acting like the Ovort on Home, who were known to play dead in order to discourage predators.

As they got closer, more surface-to-air missile launchers opened up, causing little damage to the Race's killercraft, but proving that the Tosevites that they were not yet out of the fight. Two more planes were destroyed, but the pilots succeeded in exiting their killercraft in time. Wuppah only hoped they would be found before the Big Uglies got ahold of them.

When they got within range of the base, Wuppah spotted dozens of Tosevite craft still on the runway. They were frantically trying to get them in the air before the Race arrived, but they had run out of time.

"Let's show them who this planet truly belongs to!" Nesser declared, firing all four of his air-to-surface missiles, the Tosevite aircraft bursting in flames. Wuppah fired his last, as did all of his remaining comrades. He swooped down to pick off any stragglers, not wanting to end up in the middle of an ambush.

The Tosevites were brave, he had to give them that much. Many were running for cover, but were not retreating. Some of them were even continuing to fuel the airplanes and get them ready for flight in spite of everything. Guns were fired at them, having no effect, but Wuppah had to respect their bravery. They had to have known the odds against them.

Although all the enemy killercraft were destroyed, they still were not out of danger just yet. More surface-to-air missiles, smaller ones, were fired in their direction. Unlike the others, however, all Wuppah needed to do was climb and accelerate in order to avoid it.

"How many of those things do they have?" Atvar asked in frustration. "I thought we took out all of their installations!"

"I think they might be handheld." Wuppah stated, although he dearly hoped he was wrong. Large installations with SAMs were bad enough, but if any Tosevite could carry them, they were in a lot of trouble. Luckily, they seemed to have short range and a low flight ceiling. None of them succeeded in bringing any more killercraft down.

"Looks like this area's clear." Nesser declared. "Still... they did fight bravely, that much I'll give them."

"Yeah, once we've won, they'll serve us nicely." Atvar dropped his mouth.

"Bit first, we've got to defeat them." Hefron reminded. Once the thrill of battle was over, they began to remember that even if they won, it was not without a price. Too many of their comrades did not return; how many more had died in landings throughout the world?

XXXXXXXXXX

Pavel Babikov hoped they would be able to get close enough to their target to make a difference in the fighting. He didn't expect to survive; none of his fellow pilots did. All he hopes to do was last long enough to make a difference in the fighting.

He was more than aware that his Mig-25 was no match for anything the invaders had, even without them significantly outnumbering his forces. Every pilot throughout the Soviet Union knew that they would be the first line of defense against invasion and that it was likely that most of them would not return home. Each one had gotten their efforts in order and prepared for death as best they could.

_I just hope we're going in the right direction. _The first thing they did was wipe out all the satellites in Earth's orbit. The second was setting off EMPs all throughout the Soviet Union, knocking out a significant part of their civilian power grid, hampering production. The third was hitting the locations where their nuclear weapons were stored. Their radar was picking up alien forces approximately 200 kilometers west of them, near Warsaw.

"For the Rodina!" Pavel declared. There were only fifty of them, too few to last long, but he had discussed a plan that should be able to take the aliens off-guard. _We hope, at least._

"Wish we had a few fucking satellite images." One of the pilots under his command complained. Hours before the invasion began, the aliens destroyed all of their satellites, civilian and military both.

"Stop whining; we knew what we were getting into." A second rebuked them.

"Enough; we have no time for quarrels." Pavel snapped at them. "We're nearly within range, alien forces at 2:00. Ignore the aircraft; we're got more important targets." After they managed to get within 150 kilometers, he launched both of his R-33 missiles.

By that time, however, the aliens had already detected their presence, and they were forced to take evasive action. "Ignore the aircraft; focus on their transports!" Many were listening, but not all as they tried frantically to ignore the legions of missiles headed right for them. Their electronic countermeasures provided some protection, but even so, close to half his forces were shot out of the sky before they could get within 100 kilometers.

Pavel would not be dissuaded. He sped up, using his fuel lavishly; it wasn't as if he would be returning from the mission. As he got closer, he fired all his short-ranged missiles, hoping that they would at least have some effect.

It had only been ninety seconds and already only a handful of his pilots were left. Some were attacking the alien aircraft, in defiance of his orders. "Focus on the starships!" He ordered yet again, though it seemed that for some, their fear was overtaking them and were aiming at the immediate threat.

He launched his last missile, only to see it intercepted before it got even halfway to the target. So far as he could tell, not a single starship had been taken down and he had nothing left to fight with. That is, until his radar detected three of his remaining pilots accelerating to maximum speed, changing course and headed directly to their ships.

_This might just be crazy enough to work. _Pavel thought, following suit as he realized what they intended to do. He launched every flare he had as a distraction, hoping the aliens wouldn't realize what his intentions were. _One way or the other, I'll find out. _He accelerated to three kilometers per second; it wasn't as if he was going to survive.

He was less than five seconds away from one of the starships, which had already taken damage from numerous missile impacts and was trying to get out of the line of fire. _I've got you, you son... _His trail of thoughts ended as his plane crashed into the starship, setting off a series of explosions and bringing it crashing down to Earth.

XXXXXXXXXX

June 8, 1982:

Betvoss looked up at the sky, his eye turret searching for any Big Ugly aircraft that might spot them. Not that it would do him much good, as he knew perfectly well, but it could give him an extra few seconds of warning. He continued walking through the Empire known as the United States.

_At least you managed to land successfully. _Betvoss reminded himself. He heard the report of heavy losses among killercraft pilots during the initial landing as they cleared the way for their troopships to land. Never in a million years, however, would he ever have expected them to have the capability to shoot down their starships.

He thanked the spirits of Emperors Past that he was not on one of the starships that the Big Uglies destroyed. Two had been wiped out with total losses, and apart from large missiles, a few pilots actually slammed their killercraft into their starships, a tactic Betvoss believed to be completely insane.

"Least it's warm here, even if it's too humid." One of his fellow infantarymales Premas declared. They had been moving for two-tenths of a day and as of yet, had not personally encountered any Big Ugly resistance. Others, however, in their army had and suffer considerable casualties.

_Probably take at least a week, perhaps two, for everyone to land here. _Betvoss thought. Still, they would be able to make advances before then. Already they were advancing on a major city. Columbus, he believed the name was. They had already spotted Big Ugly roads, built with higher quality than he would have expected from them, making travel considerably quicker than it would have been otherwise.

"I keep wondering why we haven't heard from their infantarymales." Skyrim wondered. He was almost absurdly tall for a male of the Race (about 5 feet) and towered over his comrades. "Surely even Big Uglies would put up a fight."

"Maybe they're already trying to surrender." Votal suggested. "This place is amazing; never dreamed any place would have such much life." Betvoss had never seem so many trees and plants in a single area on Home.

He hadn't spotted anything but a few native animals, but Betvoss still had the feeling that they were out there, somewhere. "Warning: Tosevite forces in the area. Proceed with caution." His radio declared, as did everyone else's. _Where could they possibly be hiding? _He had run numerous simulations of just this kind of thing, although nobody on Home realized just how many plants were on Tosev 3 that could give the Big Uglies places to hide.

"Are they addled?" Skyrim wondered. "We haven't seen a trace of them." Part of that might have had something to do with the twenty explosive-metal bombs that they detonated over the atmosphere of the United States, hopefully destroying all their communications. "Still... we'd better listen."

It was another daytenth before they saw any sign of their opponents. Unfortunately, they choose to reveal themselves by launching anti-tank missiles at one of their troop carriers. Betvoss dropped to the ground as quickly as he could, feeling slightly queasy when he saw the vehicle. Nobody was getting out of it alive.

The big Uglies followed up with machine-gun fire, forcing them to stay down. Betvoss and the others fired at where they figured the shots had to be coming from, but while screams could vaguely be heard through the firefight, it did little to halt the barrage.

The landcruisers turned around and opened up with their machine gun. The Big Uglies immediately scatter, but Betvoss refused to get up. He had a feeling that wasn't going to be all the enemy threw at them. His suspicion proved to be right when enemy landcruisers opened up on their positions while their infantry were getting out of their troop carriers in order to fight.

Two shots hit one of their landcruisers' front armor. The vehicle was disabled, but unlike the troop carrier, the males were able to escape unharmed. Helicopters blew several enemy landcruisers to bits, their guns delivering a heavy toll on their infantry.

_They're hitting us in every direction! _Betvoss came to the unpleasant realization once they were hit in two more directions.

Three platoons advanced while others did the best they could to grant them covering fire. Betvoss had been through this scenario dozens of times in the simulator. That is, except for one detail: failing in the simulator would earn you a stern lecture from the instructor. Failing here would cost him his life.

His squad attempted to outflank the Tosevites, but they had already anticipated such at attempt and threw a few grenades in his direction. Had Betvoss moved a couple seconds faster, he would have been blown to pieces. As it was, he was forced to take cover behind a tree. They were pinned down, unable to move forward. They fired their rifles as well in an effort to halt any advance they attempted.

Betvoss was grateful he was wearing body armor, but it was only designed to protect him from a couple lucky shots, not a sustained barrage. Machine gun fire was everywhere, from both the Race and the Tosevites. "What are we going to do, superior sir?" he asked. "We can't stay here for long, or we're going to get overrun."

"I'd like to know where our air support is." Skyrim inquired. "They can't be missing an offensive action as great as this."

His question was answered when their helicopters wiped out every Tosevite vehicle in the area they could spot. Nonetheless, they fought back as best they could, even succeeding in taking down a couple more troop carriers. Ultimately, though, those in the enemy vehicles who had not died were either surrendering or fleeing.

In spite of overwhelming odds, though, the enemy had not yet given up. Betvoss and his squad were still pinned down, even if neither group had yet inflicted a single casualty on the other. He fired a series of shots, more to keep their heads down than any realistic effort to hit them. "By the Emperor, why are they still at it?" Skyrim complained. "They can't win, yet they're still fighting us." He threw a grenade in their direction, sending grass and dirt into the air, but accomplishing nothing else.

Gradually, the gunfire decreased as the Tosevites fell back, one group moving back as the other covered them. Betvoss attempted to pursue, only to be dissuaded by machine gun fire. They knew the country better than he did and were able to make good their escape. Votal hissed in displeasure, but did not follow. The last thing he wanted was to walk into another trap.

Five landcruisers and a dozen troop carriers were either disabled or destroyed, with two helicopters and a currently unknown number of males. This was more than Betvoss believed they would take during the entire conquest and as things went, the firefight was only a taste of things to come.

XXXXXXXXXX

June 8, 1982:

"Well, this is a satisfactory beginning." Atvar declared, looking over the reports of the initial combat. An unfortunate number of killercraft had been shot down, but considering the Tosevites' technological prowess, he could hardly have expected anything else.

"Truth; we have achieved air superiority." Kirel agreed. "It is fortunate that we caught many of their killercraft on the ground before they had a chance to use them." In terms of combat capability, they weren't much less advanced than what the Race had, but their range was so limited that only a percentage of them were up in the air at any given time.

"By the spirits of Emperors past, we may succeed in this conquest after all." Atvar hissed. He knew that the fighting was not over yet, but they were advancing on every front. He reluctantly gave Straha credit for his ideas in repositioning their forces to face the most advanced Big Ugly empires first before dealing with the weaker powers.

He informed the commanders on the ground that speed was of the utmost priority. They could not allow the Big Uglies time to recover or to launch any kind of counterattacks. In the past day, they had already lost close to 10,000 males with three times that many wounded. The Tosevites had suffered much more, but they could replace their losses much more quickly. Atvar was not about to give them the chance to do so. It went against their original plan for Tosev 3, and the Race, as a rule, was not good at improvisation. He hoped his subordinates would be able to compensate for that, but while some could, he highly doubted all of them would be able to do so. Despite ample evidence, some could still not see past their eggshells, including shiplords.

"Should we begin to broadcast surrender messages?" Kirel asked. "Our researches have had some success translating their languages. Convincing at least some of them to surrender will make subduing the stubborn ones less difficult."

"No, not yet." Atvar made the negative hand gesture. "Many of them will be unable to do so in any case after what we did to their communications centers." He used 25 explosive metal bombs in order to disrupt them, one eighth of their strategic weapons, leaving him with 275 total. Hopefully, he would not be forced to use them and take Tosev 3 intact.

"It is a shame that they had only a limited effect against their military." Kirel hissed.

"Truth, but this was anticipated." Atvar replied. "With all the nuclear power plants scattered throughout the advanced empires, it was inevitable that the Big Uglies would have some concept of nuclear shielding. Emperors be praised that we decided to bring explosive metal bombs along with the conquest." Some of the cost-cutters on home had argued against it, saying that it was unnecessary, but ultimately the Race's desire for thoroughness prevailed and they were brought along.

His adjutant ran into the room on all fours, looking horrified. "Exalted Fleetlord, I have news about the conquest!" Pshing exclaimed.

Based on his behavior, Atvar realized the news couldn't be good. Nevertheless, he stated: "Speak, Pshing. What has happened?"

"I regret to inform you that... that it appears as if five of our starships have been destroyed during the landing." Pshing looked nervous, hoping the Fleetlord would not take it out on him.

"Impossible; how could this have happened!" Atvar screamed, making his adjutant tremble. After a few moments, his head become clear and he understood that Pshing was not responsible; he was only doing his duty and telling him what he needed to hear. "Do we know how this happened?"

"While their air to air missiles are insufficient to bring down our ships, even with multiple impacts, the Big Uglies have found other methods." Pshing replied. "In 2 cases, they launched larger missiles from the ground that, assuming multiple impacts and hitting our starships in vulnerable areas, are able to bring them down. In the other three cases... the Big Uglies slammed their killercraft directly into them."

"Who would be crazy enough to do something like that?" Atvar hissed. No Male of the Race would ever deliberately kill himself that way. He was beginning to realize that the Tosevites were more different than they were than his researchers believed. "What can you tell me about casualties?"

"In four of the cases, even if our ships are irreparable, we succeeded in saving most of our males and equipment." Pshing informed, dreading what he was about to say next. "On the 5th ship, one of their killercraft slammed into our reactor, with a total loss. We have yet to find a single survivor."

Atvar was barely able to stand upright at the news. Even taking into account their rapid technological growth, he never imagined the Tosevites capable of pulling off something like that. "This will never happen again!" Atvar declared, using an empathetic cough. "Set up anti-air and anti-missiles defenses, and I want constant patrols around all starships that are forced to be on the surface. Once we have unloaded all our forces, bring them back into orbit."

"It shall be done, exalted fleetlord." Pshing gave the posture of respect and skittered off.

"Once that's done, perhaps we could move our starships higher into orbit." Atvar stated to Kirel. "I do not believe that the Tosevites will be able to hit us from such a distance, but I am not about to gamble the lives of thousands of our males on that assumption."

"It shall be done, exalted fleetlord." Kirel responded. The process would take several days to be completed, in order to avoid possible collisions. Their starships would dozens of tlocks apart, but at the speed they were orbiting, the risk was there.

But for all the difficulties they were encountering, the Race was nevertheless winning the war, at least the opening stages.


	5. Chapter 5

June 22, 1982:

"Good morning," Thomas snarked as he stretched his arms, waking up.

"It's about time you got up; you've got work in less than an hour." Melanie reminded him. _At least you've got work. _With the nation being invaded, her restaurant was rather short on supplies and they informed her that they couldn't afford to keep her around anymore. She was searching for another job, but knew that would likely be a while. Of course, they were going to have far more serious problems soon.

She heard Thomas curse after stubbing his toe in the hallway. Ever since a bright flash on light, what her brother explained to her was an EMP, electricity was hard to come by, even though they were close to fifty kilometers from the epicenter. At most, they had it for 4-5 hours each day. The aliens had landed in Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, and Arizona. So far, their forces had been unable to score a single victory.

"Hope they'll be able to keep me around for a while." Thomas stated. "One advantage I have is that some of the dockworkers are going into the military. They're going to need all the help they can get. You have any idea where my good shoes are?" With the aliens within 30 kilometers, though, Cleveland was likely to be a warzone soon.

"Yeah, you left them under the couch." Melanie pointed them out. He quickly grabbed them and put them on, not even bothering to untie them first. Thomas grabbed a bottle of water and began to drink. At the moment, it was the only liquid they could obtain cheaply. Milk, juice, and alcohol had more than doubled in price ever since the aliens landed two weeks ago.

"They've already conquered most of Arizona, parts of New Mexico, southern half of Ohio, and part of Kentucky." Thomas sighed. "Seems like we can barely slow them down, much less stop them. Columbus fell just yesterday, I think." The military had made little effort to defend the major cities, both because they were spread throughout the country and did not have the manpower in any particular area and in an effort to spare civilian lives. "I'm thinking about joining myself, even if they wouldn't have me under ordinary circumstances."

The first response in Melanie's mind was horror. She didn't even want to think about the possibility of her brother getting wounded or killed! On the other hand, if everyone felt the same way, they'd lose the war. She remember her grandparents telling them what it was like in World War II, with almost every fit man her brother's age being shipped overseas. "If you do, I'll wish you luck." She finally managed to say.

"This is only speculation; I haven't decided." Thomas admitted. "I'm not a brave man; you of all people know that." He had a lot of talents, but was always passive and unwilling to stand up for himself. Ironically, a lot of people were also afraid of him, due to him being 6'3, eccentric, and half-black. "Still, I'm going to have to try to find some courage, however difficult it might be."

Melanie tried to change the subject, but the invasion was the only thing on everyone's mind right now. The President was trying to put the best possible spin of events, but with something like half their air force wiped out and the aliens advancing 10-15 miles a day, that was a difficult task to undertake. _The rate they're going, they could end up in Cleveland eventually. _She wished she hadn't had that thought.

"You'd better finish getting ready." Melanie told him as he grabbed his shirt and put it on. "How many hours are you working today?"

"Full shift this time around," Thomas answered. "Should be home around six or so. Let me know if you hear anything from our parents, will you?" Neither of them had heard a word since the day the aliens landed. They weren't directly in the enemy's path, at least for now, but neither of them could help but worry about what might have happened to them.

"Have a good day." Melanie stated, hugging her brother just before he walked out the door, leaving her to her own devices. Mark was there, but he was currently sawing logs, and likely wouldn't be up for at least another couple of hours.

She sat down and filled out a couple of job applications, which she hoped to be able to turn in later that day. Much as she hated doing it, they couldn't survive on a single income, especially with soaring prices. It was a slow task, even with the three candles she had set near the table. Once she was done, though, she breathed a sigh of relief and put out the candles. With only two windows, however, they had little light coming through.

Melanie looked out the window and saw a squad of soldiers patrolling the streets. She didn't expect it to do them much good if Cleveland was attacked, but there had been a sharp drop in crime ever since they arrived. She even felt safe walking around at night for the first time in years. _Isn't that a great irony? _Melanie thought. _The instant aliens invade, the city's safer than it's been in decades. _Even from her limited view, she could see at least two recruiting stations.

Having little else to do at the moment, she decided to go for a walk. At least on the surface, her neighborhood did not look too different than it did prior to the events. However, there were far fewer civilian vehicles driving around the city. Gasoline had great difficulty getting through and most of it was taken for military use. Not having a car, though, she wasn't too badly inconvenienced by it.

Melanie continued to wander, figuring that since she was no longer employed, she could at least take the time to visit her friends. She used to hang out with dozens of people back in her party days, but since she straightened up, that number had been reduced to around 5 or 6. _God, I was such an idiot back then. _She hadn't even come from a dysfunctional family, as many of her comrades did. She was bored, she felt invincible and decided to go out and have fun.

"Yeah, well, that's over." Melanie told herself. She walked the straight and narrow now. She briefly considered taking the bus to her friend's place, but the fares had tripled and she decided to save her money. The walk wasn't much more than a mile away, in any case. She accidentally bumped into a couple people, but they barely seemed to notice, much less say anything to her.

She found the apartment she was looking for and took the elevator up to the top floor. Melanie knocked on the door, wondering if Katherine was home or not. After six knocks, someone finally hoped the door. "Melanie!" Katherine screamed, hugging her tightly. "Been forever since I've seen you, girl! How have you been?" Katherine was about an inch shorter than her and considerably chubbier, but she had a smile that could light up an entire building.

"I've been all right; what about you?" Melanie smiled and laughed.

"Wishing I had power, but other than that, I'm fine." Katherine responded. "Come in, come in."

"So is your mother here?" Melanie wondered. Katherine still lived with her mother; her father abandoned her when she was an infant and never returned.

"No, she's out trying to get herself some new clothes." Katherine explained. "So how about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"Not at the moment, no." Melanie replied. "Been a little too busy trying to keep my job to look for a man. Didn't really help me, being that I just lost my job last week; said that they couldn't afford to keep me."

"Damn; like, I'm sorry to hear that." Katherine shook her head. "How's your brother?"

"Just as much of a know-it-all as he always is." Melanie replied. "Still, he can come across something interesting every once in a while. So how's life treating you?"

"All right, I suppose." Katherine stated. "Heard they're going to start rationing food soon, though. Not looking forward to that."

"Where did you hear this?" Melanie asked.

"Oh, I heard some people at the diner talking about it, military types." Katherine replied. "Kinds of reminds me of World War II, honestly."

"Yeah, I've heard that." Melanie had always taken for granted that they won and didn't see any other way that it could end. Her parents were children at the time, though, and both of them occasionally mentioned how much fear they felt of invasion, of losing their own parents and the hardships they had to endure. "They survived it; figure we can too. We ain't weak or stupid, no matter what some people think of us."

"We'll prove them wrong, all right." Katherine agreed. Discrimination was illegal, but it didn't mean they never encountered any racism. Her brother was often passive about it, where she straight up called them on their behavior. Not that it did any good, but it made her feel better. "I'm sorry I didn't visit you earlier. Things have just been a bit hectic."

"Don't worry about it, little girl." Katherine dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Little girl?" Melanie glared with fake indignation. "I'm only two months younger than you!"

Before Melanie could reply, a loud, piercing siren echoed through the apartment. Both covered their ears in an attempt to drown out the noise, but it did no good. It continued blaring, while both of them wondered where the hell it was coming from or what it meant.

"Wait, that's an air raid siren!" Melanie realized. She'd considered the possibility of the aliens bombing them, but didn't take it seriously until now. _Perhaps I didn't want to think about it. _

"What do we do?" Katherine demanded, appearing to be on the verge of panic. Melanie wasn't farther behind. They had minutes, maybe less, to decide on a course of action.

"Does this place have any kind of basement?" Melanie exclaimed. Not that it would do much for them, but it was better than nothing. She didn't think they had any kind of bomb shelter or fallout shelter nearby. She scrambled her brain trying to think of one and came up with a complete blank.

"Not much of one; follow me!" Katherine led the way. Dozens of others in the apartment were scrambling out as well, some of them carrying screaming children, all desperate to find whatever shelter they could before the enemy arrived. Melanie was nearly trampled by the fleeing residents and Katherine had to grab her arm in order to keep her upright.

When they arrived, Melanie saw that it was nothing more than the laundry room in the apartment. "Are you fucking kidding me?" She shrieked in horror. "This is your great idea?!"

"It's all we've got!" Katherine snapped back. "Do you have any better suggestions?" Since she didn't, Melanie grudgingly stayed put. The room was packed to the brim with worried families and she caught a few people muttering prayers under their breath. She made a quick mental prayer that both her, her brother, and Katherine would survive.

The bombs began to fall two minutes later. Each explosion felt like it was right next to them, being that Melanie had no idea how to judge how close they were. The room went dark, robbing them of what little comfort they had.

_You'll be fine, just think positive. _Melanie told herself, but holding onto hope wasn't easy in their present situation. She began to wonder if this would be how her life ended, cowering in a basement before her life even truly began.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bombing finally began to let up. Even so, they waited several minutes before leaving their makeshift bunker just in case another raid was on its way. Melanie struggled through the crowd to reach the door, trying to stave off panic. While not claustrophobic, per se, Melanie always felt uncomfortable in small, confined spaces.

She was 6th to get out, grateful that she had managed to survive. Not everyone was so lucky, although there were no reports of casualties just yet. "You ok, Mel?" Katherine asked, knowing her discomfort.

"Yeah, mostly." Melanie responded, on the whole truthfully. "May as well go see what the damage is." She knew the stories of how whenever London and other British cities were bombed, many civilians went out and did whatever they could for the dead and wounded. While having no medical training beyond some First Aid classes, she still wanted to help.

At first glance, the city didn't look too different. "Huh, would have thought we'd see rubble everywhere." Katherine remarked. So far, they had only spotted a couple pillars of black smoke.

"City's already a shit-hole; one raid isn't gonna change it that much, I suppose." Melanie responded. "Look... I better head home; parents are going to worry about me and I need to make sure my brother's all right."

"It was still good to see you, even if our visit was cut short." Katherine responded, hugging her friend. "I'll call you later, assuming the phone lines aren't down."

During her stroll home, however, the destruction began to become more apparent. Melanie was forced to take a detour when one of the roads had a giant crater in it, in addition to a pair of damaged buildings. Sirens were blaring in every direction, and she spotted an apartment complex just a quarter-mile away from her home erupting into an inferno, with firefighters trying desperately to put out the blaze.

When she arrived home, Thomas was still sitting on the couch, reading one of his many books. "Oh, I didn't hear you come in." He remarked. "How was your visit?"

Melanie stood open-mouthed at him for several moments. "How... how was my visit?" She eventually managed to stammer out. "Haven't you been paying attention, or did you not just notice the giant air raid?!"

"Yeah, I noticed it." Thomas shrugged. "Not like there was much of a place to hide; we don't even have a basement to take cover in. The subway entrances were over a mile away, and being outside seemed downright suicidal, so I stayed here and to put it bluntly, prayed I would live through it."

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Melanie demanded. "For all I know, you were dead, and here you are, acting like nothing happened!"

"What do you want me to say?" Thomas asked, putting his book down and getting to his feet. "I'm scared as hell, but I don't know what to do about it. Probably should've done some reading about where I can take cover." Thomas started muttering under his breath, berating himself.

"Don't even start with that," Melanie cut him off. She moved forward, hugging him tightly. "Don't do anything that stupid again, all right? I was terrified that something happened to you!"

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere." Thomas promised her. "You're my little sister and I love you... no matter how much I might want to kill you on occasion." He let her go and sighed. "They hit our power facilities and as many factories as they could locate. Wouldn't count on any electricity for the foreseeable future."

"Ha ha, very funny." Melanie rolled her eyes. They'd managed to survive the first raid. _But it won't be the last. _She was positive of that.

XXXXXXXXXX

June 28, 1982:

Corporal Alexis Bardy was beginning to wonder just how long they could hold the aliens. No, the Race; that was what they called themselves based on the few prisoners of war that they had successfully managed to take. They held far more, likely in the tens of thousands.

_Won't be long until they reach Orleans _When the Race landed, they cut off NATO from the Warsaw pact, in addition to landing on the Soviet Union's border, in effect cutting Soviet forces in Eastern Europe off from its supply chain. Not to say they were ignoring Western Europe; they had been pounding France for the past three weeks and managed to push themselves as far as the borders of Orleans. It wasn't what he was expected when he joined the military eighteen months ago at the age of 24.

Artillery fire landed in his vicinity, although fortunately not directly near him. In spite of the escalating fighting, considerably fewer civilians had died than the brass had feared. It seemed like this Race species were actually trying to minimize non-combatant casualties. _Just when you thought things couldn't get any stranger. _

In addition, he also thought that aliens would have been a lot more advanced than they were, with force fields, plasma guns, death rays, etc. Instead they fought with projectiles, same as them. More advanced, perhaps, but not as advanced as many of his fellow soldiers feared.

That's not to say things were easy. The road was clogged with refugees desperate to get away from the fighting. They knew that the lizards- Alexis refused to call them "Males of the Race" were likely to enter the city any day now and were hoping to get to what they thought was safety. That safety was also likely to be temporary. At the rate they were going, all of France would be swallowed up in a month or so.

"Think there's any chance we can persuade them to stop clogging the roads?" Luigi Menotti wondered. He may have been Italian, but he spoke French fluently. While focusing mostly on their own defense, Italy had sent two divisions into France in order to assist them.

Alexis shook his head: "They're scared and likely hungry; I wouldn't count on it." France had seen war come to its borders for the third time in a century. The lizards seemed all but unstoppable at the moment; little wonder they were fleeing.

Alien aircraft flew over the city, bombing whatever vehicles they could find. Alexis immediately hit the ground, having no time to flee to a bomb shelter. He tried to stay away from any large vehicles in order to maximize his chances for survival. "Bastards!" he swore, rolling onto his back and firing his FAMAS in their direction. It did absolutely no good, as he knew very well, but it did help him feel more secure.

He spotted a pair of Belgians firing MANPAD missiles in their direction. Every so often, they got lucky and shot an alien aircraft down. The Race had destroyed most of their mobile SAMs, but handheld missile launchers were apparently a surprise that they didn't prepare for. This time, they weren't so lucky.

_We'd be a lot better off if they hadn't caught so much of our air force on the ground. _Alexis sighed. Once they learned invasion was imminent, they tried to keep as many of their aircraft flying as they possible could, not wanting to be caught with their pants down. Unfortunately, it ended up happening anyway because of the lizard fighters far superior range.

"Are you all right?" Menotti asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Alexis responded, pushing himself back to his feet. He had a couple aches and pains from diving onto the cement, but they had far bigger concern. It was time to assess the damage. The roads had some giant craters in them, in addition to many APCs and jeeps destroyed. Alexis only hoped their occupants were able to escape them in time.

_Now that the raid's over, I'm back to being a glorified traffic cop. _Alexis thought.He and every other soldier in Frankfurt were trying to keep some kind of order with invasion imminent. Personally, he wasn't all that optimistic about stopping them, but knew better than to vocalize his concerns aloud.

Once the refugees were convinced that the raid was indeed over, they continued to head to makeshift shelters that the city had set up for them. So far, their casualties had been minimal; the Race had apparently figured out what the Red Cross symbolized.

Alexis decided to walk back to their makeshift base. Going by jeep would be quicker, but it also made him a tempting target for any lizard pilot flying over the area. Most vehicles that were still on the road were military vehicles. With the Middle East almost completely conquered and the United States invaded, they had next to none. Even supplying their trucks and tanks was sometimes difficult.

About an hour later, he reported to base. There was another brief artillery barrage and some counter-battery fire, but the combined NATO armies were saving as much as they could for when the lizards made their big push. "Reporting for duty!" Alexis declared, immediately saluting.

"At ease!" The base commander declared. "You are currently dismissed until 0700 hours tomorrow; understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Alexis stated again and walked to the barracks. He noticed some recent bomb damage, but it had been quickly patched up. _Ought to put it in a less conspicuous place, _Alexis thought, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Once he walked in, he decided to join a game of poker. He lost more than he won, but knew better than to gamble more than he can afford to. "Let's see how much of your money I can win from you this time."

"Your overconfidence will be your downfall." Alexis laughed. They all knew that Fredrick Bauer was the best poker player in the merged unit, maybe even of the city. Alexis heard that he'd made a year's pay off playing in just a month. That might have been an exaggeration, but probably not by much.

Nevertheless, Alexis managed to win two hands, one of them with a full house. The rest of Fredrick's players started laughing and jeering at him. He chuckled back; part of the reason people kept playing with him in spite of how much money he lost was that he was a good sport when he did lose. "You lucky son of a bitch." Fredrick laughed, pretending he was actually unhappy. "Suppose even you have to win once in a while."

"Stop being a sore loser." Alexis rolled his eyes, dealing the cards. Thomas won the next hand and Fredrick the next three. The other three players, Alexis had yet to learn their names.

"Cough up the green, suckers!" Thomas Green laughed as he raked in the most recent pot. He was one of the U.S. soldiers stationed in Germany. Originally, they were going to withdraw most of them to protect their home, but after all their allies protested, they agreed to leave most of them there.

"Damn yanks; SOBs are robbing me blind." Alexis sighed.

"Hey, if it wasn't for us, you'd all be speaking German!" Green laughed. One of the others, Lawrence Jones, won the next round of poker, and wholeheartedly agreed with Green's statement.

"Hey, shut the hell up!" Alexis snapped, a flash of anger entering his brain. It was a sensitive subject for many and he was no exception. He was also rather tired of British and especially American arrogance. "I get real tired of you bastards rubbing that in our face!"

"Jeez, calm down; it was just a joke." Green told him. Alexis stormed off, grabbing the few francs he had managed to win and decided to find something else to do.

After a minute, Alexis began to realize that he might have acted a bit too rashly. Yes, it was a joke, however much it rankled him. Still, it wasn't as if he'd never heard it before, and while he was never pleased to hear it, he'd never exploded the way he had just a few minutes prior.

_I'll have to apologize to him later. _Alexis thought. _Stress is starting to get to me and I haven't even entered combat yet. _He'd never experienced it himself, but his father and one of his uncles had participated both the Indochina and Algeria campaigns. It made him wonder just what was in store for him, if just occasional air raids and artillery fire had him this on edge.

"Least I'm better off than Louis." Alexis sighed. That was the last of his grandparents, who had died when the lizards detonated EMP blasts into the atmosphere. His pacemaker had short-circuited and his death quickly followed. _One of many. _The death toll from those blasts in France were not known, but were estimated to be between 50,000 and 80,000. _Another thing to pay back these damn aliens for. _

Even though he knew he should get some sleep, Alexis was unable to shut his body down. Fear filled his mind about what was going to happen next; whether when the time came, he would be brave or a cowardly. His grandparents informed him that you never really knew, not until you were actually in the middle of it.

And there was an even more important question: whether he would live or die.

XXXXXXXXXX

June 29, 1982:

Andrei spent most of his time pouring over maps and reports of the alien advance. Thus far, Soviet forces had been unable to stop them. Hurt them, yes, but not enough to halt their advance. Large portions of the southern half were already in their hands, though partisans were making life rather difficult for them.

The latest briefing was a request from the Middle Eastern nations, politely asking for (I.E. begging on bended knee) for munitions so they could more successfully resist the alien advance. _Idiots; they deserve this for being so careless and stupid. _While most of the world prepared themselves for the inevitable, the Middle East had not, declaring that their statements were lies. They were paying dearly for it now. The two countries that did prepare, Israel and Jordan, were also the only ones in the region to fight the aliens with any measure of success.

Currently, they had nothing to spare for anyone. The Soviet Union was having a hard enough time simply supplying their own troops. Their EMPs had knocked out a lot of their factories and it was going to take time to be able to fully repair them. Their nuclear weapons silos had been hit, neutralizing many of their ground missiles. They were forced to destroy whatever they were unable to take to deny their use to the enemy, something that had occurred all over the world. The U.S. and the U.S.S.R still had plenty left over, but Britain, France, China, and India lost most of their land and air based thermonuclear weapons; the former three still had second strike capability, but India was at a stronger disadvantage.

_ Time we don't have, _Andrei understood. Their forces in Eastern Europe were completely trapped between two armies. To make matters worse, some individuals were evidently deciding that living under the Race was preferable to living under the Soviet Union. All known collaborators had been killed as a warning, but if anything, that only seemed to make matters worse.

One thing they did have to their advantage, however, was their tactical inexperience. Reports from his fellow generals and stories from the men under his command indicated that they followed plans very well, but were not good at improvising when things go wrong. "No plan survives contact with the enemy." Andrei said to himself.

Still, their damn air superiority made that a difficult weakness to exploit. They controlled the skies, with the Politburo deciding to reserve their remaining aircraft for when they could be used with effective results. It was a wise strategy, but at the present time, it made things very difficult for them. Anti-aircraft missiles claimed some alien craft, but it wasn't enough to use the bombardment.

For that matter, it was likely that they would have to evacuate Almaty soon. The aliens were getting uncomfortably close to the city his division was currently residing in. Partisans were slowing them down, but their best was not likely to be enough.

Local counterattacks were being prepared, which gave him some reason to hope they could be held back, but Andrei personally found that unlikely. He would have retreated already if it wasn't for the fact that his superiors ordered him to stay and fight to the last man to defend the city. Even with the numerous setbacks they were suffering, some Soviet generals seemed unaware that they were facing aliens, not NATO.

His adjutant walked into his room and saluted, looking nervous. Andrei instantly realized that whatever he had to say was not going to be good news. "What is it?" He demanded. _This had better be good. _He meant.

Yuri Smirnov gulped again and his fingers tugged against his collar. Andrei was just about to scream when he finally answered. "Some of Almaty's residents are protesting, demanding independence for the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic. Our soldiers are currently monitoring them closely, but..."

There was no need to finish that sentence. Nobody there wanted to act against the protest without orders from him. Andrei thought carefully for a few seconds. Warning them to disperse or die was the first thing that came to mind. He was about to give the order to do just that when he stopped himself. He knew many wanted independence and while brutality was often the first resort, Andrei realized that it could back fire on them. Almaty was on the verge of falling to the aliens as things stood; the last thing he needed was willing traitors to mankind inside the city.

"Just watch them for now, and have intelligence discover whether they plan to subvert our defenses to the imperialist alien aggressors." Andrei finally decided. "If they turn violent, however, you are authorized to use lethal force." Smirnov saluted and ran back to relay his orders.

_Hopefully, that's one problem solved._ Andrei thought. He'd never have guessed that some would actually prefer aliens to humans, at least until he remembered that during the Great Patriotic War, many greeted the Nazis as liberators, at least until they showed what kind of beasts they really were. Still, he could sense trouble brewing.

More bombs hit the city, some of them within a hundred meters of his headquarters. Andrei spent most of his time in a bunker underground; he knew he would be unable to run and duck for cover if his headquarters was hit on the surface. Just standing up was difficult enough for his mangled body.

Thankfully, the bunker held; he wouldn't be around to think if it hadn't Andrei let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He looked over the maps again. The city was not going to be held, not with the kind of numbers the aliens were sending towards them. Turkmenistan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan had already fallen to their advance. If Almaty was captured, Kazakhstan would be opened to them.

_At least they're lousy tacticians, _Andrei thought, which was why they were still holding, even if barely. He had already ordered some of his troops out of the city and into the mountains in order to have enough equipment left to harass them in the mountains once Almaty fell. His superiors had not given him the order, but the Red Army was not as inflexible as it had been under Stalin.

His adjutant rushed in again, looking to be on the verge of panic. _Green boy's never seen real fighting before. _Andrei sneered. "General, the enemy's cut the 35th Armored division off and is beginning to assault the city itself!" _Bozhemoi! _

"Tell the 35th to stand firm and hold out as long as they can; that should buy us some time." Andrei ordered. He wrote them off for dead with only a slight twinge of conscience. There was a war going on, after all.

As he turned around, however, he saw a pair of KGB agents waiting for him with their hands folded behind their back. Andrei forced himself to suppress the instinctive fear he felt at their very presence. _What could they possibly want with me? _Andrei worried. Things weren't nearly as brutal as they were under Stalin, but it wasn't unheard of for officers to suddenly disappear in the middle of the night. He had served the Soviet Union his entire life, but knew how little that meant if Breznev decided he needed to be liquidated. "And what can I do for you, comrades?" Andrei asked, proud of himself for keeping any hint of fear out of his voice.

"You are to leave immediately." The first agent responded. "A replacement for you on this front has already been picked out."

"And where are you sending me?" Andrei demanded, considering simply taking out his pistol and shooting them, blaming their deaths on the artillery barrages.

"We require your talents elsewhere." The second responded. Andrei relaxed a little, though not much. "The General Secretary has ordered that you be sent to a secure location immediately in order to coordinate resistance plans against the aliens."

"Where is this facility?" Andrei asked, but knew it was a foolish question as soon as the words left his lips. Not only would they not tell him, it was quite likely that they didn't know. Now mostly convinced that he was being transferred, not liquidated, he decided to follow orders, although he kept his weapon with him just in case he was wrong. Not that it would do much good, he knew, but it gave him a feeling of security.

In less than an hour, he had boarded a plane. He was able to muster enough strength to walk up there without assistance, something Andrei was personally proud of. It was a small civilian aircraft in hopes that the aliens would not detect such a primitive machine in the skies. Soon after he boarded, everyone cleared the way for takeoff, with Andrei wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

XXXXXXXXXX

June 29, 1982:

_Are they actually serious about this? _Samal Barzani asked himself with disbelief. Did they really think he was going to be willing to speak to them after everything that had happened?

He had never even considered being a leader when he was younger, not believing he had the capability, but over the years, he had somehow taken charge of several hundred members of the Peshmerga in their struggle for independence and, he was forced to admit to himself, revenge. Barzani had nothing left to lose since four years ago when Saddam had his entire family slaughtered, and he knew most of the men under his command had similar experiences.

"This has got to be a trap for us." One of the men responded, voicing the opinion of a substantial amount of his men. Thus far, the Iraqis had yet to root them out in the mountains and he was aware that this could be one such method of doing so.

But another part of his mind doubted it. Ever since the aliens landed, the world's priorities had shifted. While the superpowers had been able to fight back more effectively, it was a different story for the Middle Est. Barzani knew the information he last received was days old, but much of Saudi Arabia and Qatar was under their control, as was the Sinai in Egypt, and many parts of Iran, meaning that it had become quite difficult to obtain weapons.

Like many others in the region, he thought the reports from NATO and the Soviet Union that aliens were on their way to be mere fantasy, only to be proven disastrously wrong. _Allah give me guidance, give me strength. _Barzini prayed as he made his decision. His men watched, waiting for the order to approach or open fire. Even at a glance, he could see which decision they were hoping for.

"I will approach them," Barzini eventually decided. "I will go alone in order to see what they want from us. If I do not reappear, assume the worst and disappear."

"You're going alone?" One of them demanded in horror. "Allow me the honor of going with you. I cannot in good conscience let you go alone into the serpent's den."

"Thank you, Diyari, but I will not risk any more lives than necessary." Barzini proclaimed, but many of his men were demanding to come with him for security. He was eventually forced to capitulate and took a dozen of his best men with him, AK-47s in their hands. _I hope this is legitimate, _Barzini hoped, his eyes searching the area for planes. Having some of his men with him made him feel a little safer, but knew their small force could do nothing if the Iraqis decided to kill them.

They were greeted at the pre-arranged meeting point with an army 100 times their number and half a dozen T-72s. Barzini recognized them as members of the Republican Guard and it took every bit of self-control he had not to simply open fire at the sight of them, even if such an action would be suicidal. A group of similar size approached, their nervous look giving Barzini a slight grin.

They stopped twenty meters away from Barzini's group and their commander broke away from the group. Barzini did the same, reminding himself that shooting him down on the spot would be unwise. "What do you want with us?" He spat, not caring about diplomatic niceties.

"We're here to discuss terms of... a truce, in light of our changed circumstances." The Republican Guard commander responded, a smirk on his face.

"Why should I discuss anything with you?" Barzini snarled. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you where you stand."

"If you're foolish enough to kill me, we'll wipe out your entire group." The commander sneered. "You think we don't know where your men are hiding? Our aircraft have been watching you for days."

"And if you kill me, we'll resume our attacks and our resistance against you." Barzini warned. "I doubt any reports of Iraqi victories have any truth in them whatsoever, and you really don't need another enemy right now." Both of their hands went to their pistols, their legs in a cross position, waiting to see what the other would do.

Several tense seconds lasted before the commander finally let go of his weapon. "All right, I believe you make a certain amount of sense." He sighed, obviously regretting his words. "We have more important concerns at the moment." Barzini did not miss the significance of his last words, although he wasn't exactly surprised.

"So... what do you want us to do?" Barzini asked. "And what do we get in return?" Absently, he wondered if the aliens could be any worse than what his people had already suffered.

"We want your raids and attacks to end immediately." He demanded. He took a deep breath and added. "In return, we will... cease our operations in your territory and fight the common enemy. These terms come from the president himself."

Barzini thought it over, mentally discussing the pros and cons. In the end, though, he decided: "So long as you up hold your part of the agreement, we will uphold ours. If you want us to cooperate, you will cease you atrocities against our people, which is continuing even at the present time. Do not try to deny it; it is no use."

Much to his relief, the Republican Guard commander didn't. He would have much preferred dealing with an Iraqi general. That would be difficult, but some of them were simply men who were loyal to their country, regardless of who controlled it at the moment. "Perhaps negotiations will need to continue." The commander responded. "The terms will need to discussed at higher levels."

"I will go back and give the terms to my men." Barzini declared. They nodded, not foolish enough to try and stop him. Part of him was hoping they would give him the excuse he wanted to kill them all. Most of him was pleased that he would not be going into another battle, at least for today. Even so, he could not help but nervously look back a couple times to see what they would try.

Needless to say, they were less than happy about the proposal. Despite training and painful experience to stay quiet, Barzini believed that anyone within ten kilometers would be able to pinpoint their location now. "Quiet!" He screamed. He only rarely lost his temper, so he managed to get their attention despite being a physically small man, only just 5'4. "I am no happier about this than you, but we have bigger problems right now! For the moment, we will cooperate with them."

"You would forgive the monsters who burned our villages and killed everyone they could?!" A voice demanded.

"I would never forgive them for their crimes!" Barzini screamed. Despite his experience, his leadership was informal and if enough of them decided to focus on the Iraqis... "Must I remind you again of what they did to my family? Nevertheless, we will cooperate with them... for now." _But we'll get our revenge for everything you've done to us; count on it._


	6. Chapter 6

August 6, 1987:

"This is not satisfactory." Atvar hissed to himself. He had been saying that ever since the invasion began. On one hand, it was not unexpected, considering the Tosevite's extremely rapid technological growth.

On the other claw... who would have imagined that they would have the capability to destroy starships before they even landed? 5 were lost as they landed their troops, some of them by Tosevites slamming their killercraft into in the heart of the vessel. In hindsight, perhaps he should have warned his subordinates of the possibility, but he never imagined it. Security had been greatly increased and so far, no further starships had been destroyed, but the possibility was still there.

Evidently he had said something out loud, for Kirel mentioned. "It is not as bad as all that, Exalted Fleetlord. We have managed to take significant territory away from our most dangerous opponent. This city in the United States... Phoenix, has just fallen to us. And in the middle portion of their empire, this... Columbus is all but ours, with only a few stubborn defenders resisting us."

"I find it amazing what so few can do to our forces." Atvar remarked. Currently, he was unsure as to which Empire- country was what the Tosevites referred to them as- posed the more significant threat to them. The United States were better trained, better equipped and mostly united against them, but both were limited and he was doing everything he could to make sure they could not mobilize in time to save themselves.

The USSR, on the other hand... what they lacked in training, they made up for in numbers, size, and stubbornness. Atvar did not previously realize just how large a planet was, even a portion of a planet. Killercraft did everything they could to suppress their munitions, but it was not nearly as effective as some shiplords previously believed, not to mention their surface-to-air missiles exacting a price in each raid. He had ordered their pilots to fly above their effective range and while that reduced the danger, it did not eliminate it.

"I still have difficulty believing that their government is what they claim." Atvar gave a mental shudder. They had previously brought one of the representatives from the USSR, asking for their surrender, when he learned that their emperor and his family had been murdered approximately 140 years ago. He spoke matter-of-factly, as if he couldn't see why it mattered. Atvar felt physically sick just at the thought of it.

"Truth," Kirel agreed. "Tosev 3 has taught us many unpleasant events. They are far different than us than either the Rabotevs or Hallessi. Perhaps we should crush them. Their overall technology is inferior to ours, but their military technology is only slightly behind. Is..." He stopped talking, but Atvar took his point. "Perhaps we should excuse explosive-metal bombs in order to convince them to cease their resistance."

"Shiplord, I have had the same thought." Atvar admitted. That he had considered said a lot about his frustration. "As you say, they are not only advanced, they are more experienced than we are, having divided into two power blocks. The natives call it a Cold War." He didn't understand how a war could be cold, but then, he was no Tosevite. His forces had neutralized as many of the native's exploive-metal bombs as he could. In total, several thousand had been destroyed, mostly by the Tosevites themselves as the Race advanced on them.

"This could work to our advantage." Kirel suggested. "We could play them off against each other, weakening them and allowing us to conquer each side individually."

"That is an interesting question." Atvar admitted. "Our researchers are working on various possibilities. We cannot stop, cannot slow down. This conquest must proceed quickly before they can mobilize." 5 million were in the United States, 5 in the Soviet Union, and 3 at the western half of the main continental mass, as he chose to focus on the most advanced Big Uglies. He had no intention of using explosive metal bombs if it could possibly be avoided.

They were suffering horrific losses in both, however, both in urban areas and in the countryside. Interrogation of prisoners suggested that they spread their forces out deliberately in order to keep the Race from annihilating all of them in a single battle. The war had not even lasted 1/3 of a year and already they were out of antimissiles. Air-to-air missiles and close-in-weapons-systems could replace them to an extent, but it wouldn't be as effective. Roving bands attacked convoys, blew up their limited supplies, and disappeared into the countryside once again.

Even in the empires that were unable to meet them on even terms, the Race was still suffering setbacks. The region known as the Middle East with 1 million males was mostly under Race but resistance continued anyhow. And a few areas, mostly a part of the western portion were still holding out in spite of everything. India and China's males were underequipped and primitive, but their empires had so many Tosevites that they were nonetheless able to inflict losses. Southeast Asia posed similar difficulties with even more hostile terrain. The cities were held, but they didn't have the males to pacify the entire region. The Southern parts of both the main and lesser continental masses were currently being ignored, as Atvar chose to focus on the more advanced areas first.

As little as he cared to admit, they had a better idea of what they were doing than Race commanders. They studied in simulations, using every possible scenario, but Atvar was quickly finding that there was a major difference between simulations and real combat. Fighting in the western half of the main continent was slowest of all. The territory was too densely packed with Tosevites for a war of maneuver. The city Orelans should have already fallen, but its defenders were stubbornly holding on.

"Exalted Fleetlord, your appointment is about to begin." Kirel reminded him.

"Oh, yes; perhaps negotiations will prove fruitful." Atvar hoped. He kept his doubts to himself.

His interpreter was waiting outside the shuttlecraft. Once the door was opened, the male- Atvar assumed it was a male, at least- walked through the door, trying his best not to show how uncomfortable he was inside the starship.

"Shall we begin?" The man's interpreter stated oddly but understandably, introducing himself as the Vice President of the United States, whatever that happened to be. Neither side currently had a strong grip on the other's language, especially since the Tosevites seemed to have so many of them. Atvar remembered that before the Empire was unified, they were the same, although to a lesser degree.

"Yes, let us do that." Atvar made the affirmative hand gesture.

"The President of the United States demands your immediate withdrawal from our territory." The representative declared. "Failure to do so will result in immediate consequences."

"You are in no position to demand anything." Atvar pointed out. "We are advancing on every front. Every day, more of your empire falls under our control. We strike wherever we please, while you are unable to halt or slow down our attack. The Race demands surrender; you cannot win." In fact, their advance had been somewhat slowed, but he was not about to admit that to the Big Ugly.

"We are no empire." The Tosevite pointed out. "We are a Democracy... and a Republic. We have no emperor; we never have, we never will. The United States will never submit to invaders."

"Your obstinacy only guarantees your people's suffering." Atvar warned. "The harder you attempt to hit us, the harder we will hit back. Victory will belong to the Empire. We have the resources of three worlds to conquer you: consider that."

"You have only what you brought with you." The Tosevite pointed out. "Your people have made a grave mistake and have overextended themselves. However, we do not want this war. Withdraw from our territory and we can find a way to co-exist."

Atvar resisted the urge to hiss in frustration. None of the major Tosevite empires had been willing to yield, even facing overwhelming firepower. That was going to make this task much more difficult. "How do you propose to fight back once we have killed or captured all your military males and destroyed your factories? Other empires have been more willing to consider surrender." Considering, though, was not the same as actually submitting. Atvar hoped the Tosevite wouldn't see through that.

Judging by the spread of his facial muscles, he did. "They can fight on or submit: the choice is theirs. We, on the other hand, will not surrender. Since your Emperor is not interested in a peaceful settlement, the war will go on. Perhaps you'll be more willing to talk sense after we've bled you out some more."

"If you are not willing to surrender or negotiate, why did you bother to waste my time?" Atvar hissed in frustration.

"I was hoping you would be sensible; I was mistaken." The Tosevite responded. "If you will not consider negotiations that do not end in surrender, we have nothing else to talk about." He floated out of the room and back to the shuttlecraft.

Pshing was waiting for him when he returned, giving the fleetlord a curious look. "No, they are still unwilling to surrender." Atvar sighed. He was going to meet with representatives of France, Italia, and Deutschland in a short period of time, asking for their surrender as well. He doubted they would, but the effort had to be made. The only successful negotiations were over prisoner exchanges and supplying food to conquered regions. Atvar was tempted not to allow them, but if food was cut off, the Tosevites would go hungry and have more incentive to fight back, so he tolerated it. "Tell our technicians to make any efforts possible to rebuild our antimissiles. Captured factories will be able to do the job, but only members of the Race will be anywhere near the electronics. We cannot risk the Big Uglies duplicating our technology."

"It shall be done, exalted fleetlord." Kirel made the posture of respect and departed. Even under optimistic scenarios, however, they would only be able to build around a dozen per day, not nearly enough to keep all their bases and ships safe from attack.

He looked at the hologram of Tosev 3 once more. While they had great success in conquering certain areas of the planet, even primitive areas were difficult to control, keeping some males from assisting in the conquest of the industrialized parts of the world. "We will succeed, by the Emperor." Atvar declared. That erased his private doubts for about a minute.

XXXXXXXXXXX

August 10, 1982:

"They don't look so tough from here, do they?" Betvoss remarked as a couple hundred Big Uglies marched into custody, hands over their heads. All their soldiers kept a careful eye on them, warning them not to try anything foolish. So far, the prisoners hadn't, but with the way they were fighting, nobody could afford to take any chances.

"Another city block taken; just a couple hundred more to go." Premas remarked. As if to prove his point, more artillery shells hit the area. Throughout the commotion, Betvoss could hear some of his fellow males screaming in agony. It reminded them of just how stubborn the Big Uglies had proven themselves to be.

Betvoss and every other male in the area immediately hit the ground, while their killercraft hunted down and destroyed as many Big Ugly strongholds as they could find. They wouldn't get them all, however; constant firefights had already proved that many times over. The only good thing about it was that there were not enough of the enemy to hold the city for long.

"We'd better keep moving." Skyrim declared. "Don't want any of them sneaking up on us." Even in parts of the city the Race supposedly held, ambushes were frequent. Intelligence had yet to discover just how they were able to appear and slip away at a moment's notice, and interrogations had not helped any.

Betvoss' eye turrets scanned every corner, every building. Any of them could hold hostile big uglies. Any civilian could suddenly start shooting at them; a few accidents had already happened where he had accidentally killed an unarmed alien. They may not have known the Emperor's name and were thus savage, but he did not like to take a life if there was no reason for it.

"Wonder how far we can push them back today." Votal wondered. Unlike the others, he sounded as if he was looking forward to it. He had recently been shot in the chest, but his body armor saved his life, even if his ribcage was fractured afterwards. The Race had only six thick rib bones, in contrast to the Tosevites. It took a couple weeks for him to recover, but the instant he did, his superiors sent him back. "We'll show them this planet is ours!"

"We'll see action again soon enough." Betvoss promised, making sure to look around in all directions. Not paying attention had almost gotten him killed the first day he arrived in the city and he was not about to make a similar mistake. Most windows had been shattered or boarded up, but even through the carnage, there was still plenty of life around.

The group stayed together. Individuals who wandered off had a nasty tendency to end up dead. The Race's retaliation did nothing to dissuade them. He had heard rumors that some commanders were going to implement a policy of shooting ten Big Uglies for every Male of the Race injured, twenty for each one dead. Betvoss hoped that it would at least reduce the number of guerilla attacks.

Later that day, they got the order to advance again. Big Uglies still controlled the northern half of the city, even though they were surrounded and without hope of escape. Fortunately, they were not spearheading the advance. Betvoss had gotten a look at the males who were, most of whom looked considerably less than enthusiastic.

More artillery sent his squad scrambling for cover. "Haven't they run out of those accursed shells by now?" Skyrim complained, pushing himself back to his feet.

"That does not appear to be the case." Premas replied without the slightest hint of irony. Their killercraft had wiped out most of their mortars, but the few the Big Uglies still had were well-concealed and difficult to root out.

"They will not be able to keep up this resistance for much longer." SSofeg, their small unit group leader, remarked, still sounding just as optimistic as he did back on Home. "Keep your eye turrets fresh at all times; no telling what sort of mischief the enemy may attempt."

"It shall be done." All of them responded in unison. Betvoss was mentally wondering how he had come through all of this so unfazed. He certainly wasn't feeling all that confident anymore. Nevertheless, Ssofeg was his superior and he obeyed. It was sound advice, even if his entire squad was already aware of it.

The rest of their patrol went, for the most part, smooth. A roadside explosive disabled one of their troopcarriers although happily, no injuries were reported and the vehicle was still salvageable. Whoever set the bomb was long gone, though, and Betvoss highly doubted they would find the individual responsible.

Once their patrol was done, they retired to a captured tosevite building that served as a makeshift base. The males guarding it waved them through the checkpoints as they walked through all the metal and infrared detectors. Betvoss looked over the building, seeing a section of the building where Big Ugly prisoners were being held. So far, no one had managed to sneak any weapons in here, but with the Tosevites, you couldn't tell.

"Glad to be in a place where no one's shooting at us." Skyrim sighed with relief. Betvoss made the affirmative hand gesture. He'd be happy to never see another Tosevite in his life. "Nice to be in a place that's warm as well. Miserable Big Uglies can't even appreciate good weather." All their prisoners were currently complaining about the heat, and a couple had even collapsed and nearly died before the Race figured out what was wrong with them. The Big Uglies required far more water than they did.

"Wonder how much longer it'll be before we take this city." Betvoss muttered. The area the Big Uglies called Akron was the gateway to shutting down enemy transportation in the area- the natives called it a state. However, the Toseivtes knew this just as much as they did and did everything in their power to defend it. It seemed every Big Ugly male who could hold a gun was participating in the defense.

"They'll figure out that they can't win soon enough." Skyrim let his mouth fall open. A few seconds later, he admitted. "Not that I don't wish this was easier. By the Emperor, how did they advance so quickly?" Like everyone else in his squad, he lowered his eye turrets when he mentioned the Emperor's name.

"If I knew that, I'd be Fleetlord, not an infantrymale." Betvoss informed.

"They know better than we do about what is to be done about conquering this world." Ssofeg reminded. "Let us enjoy what time away from the front line we can."

"It shall be done." Betvoss muttered. He needed no encouragement to relax. Seeing that his body paint was beginning to get sloppy, he temporarily took his leave and began to reapply it, going slowly and methodically to make sure it was perfectly applied.

Before he went back to the rest of his squad, he looked around and observed that some of his fellow males were already carrying thick human clothing to wear outside where it was cooler than males of the Race were accustomed to. Betvoss as of yet had no need to do it himself, especially since such clothing was in limited supply, but he understood the temptation.

He and the rest of his squad decided to get whatever rest they were able to grab before heading back into action again. Absently, he wondered how his friends were doing back home. Betvoss knew when he joined the conquest that he would likely never see them again and while a couple had joined as well, most declined. _I wonder if they're even alive. _He worried. Casualties had been extremely heavy, even though they were supposedly winning the war. That was the last thought he had before going to sleep.

About two daytenths later, he was abruptly woken up by his squad later. "We're under attack; grab your equipment!" Ssofeg demanded, already ready and about to head out the door.

"It shall be done." Betvoss declared, quickly putting on his body armor and grabbing his weapons. "Superior sir, just what is going on?"

"The Big Uglies are launching another bombing raid, a massive one." Ssofeg hissed in displeasure. "I have been given orders to prepare for Tosevite counterattack."

"I thought we destroyed all their killercraft!" Skyrim complained.

"Apparently not," Betvoss hissed. He had no weapons that could touch a killercraft, even a Tosevite one, but orders were orders. The Race had the capability, but didn't bring any, not anticipating such a need.

"Are they launching some kind of counterattack?" Skyrim inquired. They quickly realized, however, that this was not a typical raid. None of them had seen so many killercraft since the day they initially landed.

"Perhaps we should find a place to take cover." Betvoss suggested. Big Uglies on the ground were still a couple tlocks away, but it didn't seem to matter much at the moment.

The squad found as much cover as they could manage, wishing they had some kind of anti-killercraft weapon. Hearing their own craft gave Betvoss some hope, but at the same time, he knew that not all the Big Ugly killercraft would be shot down, however much he prayed to the Emperor that it would be so.

"Strange; a single raid shouldn't be causing so much damage." Skyrim remarked. There were far more explosions and infernos than they would have expected, even for a large raid like the one currently going on. In fact, it was the greatest inferno that they had ever seen.

They could only vaguely hear sounds of combat thousands of feet above them. At the moment, however, Betvoss' squad was mostly focused on the growing inferno, which seemed to be growing by the second. Because of the wind patterns, it seemed to be coming... directly towards them.

"Retreat!" Ssofeg ordered, immediately moving back. The difficulty was: what kind of cover would they take? Betvoss looked around frantically for a place to hide from the growing storm. He knew that if it got close enough, they'd all be burned alive. But where could they go?

All they could think to do was run as fast as their legs could take them. "We haven't been ordered to retreat!" Skyrim made a half-hearted protest.

"I'll take responsibility if our superiors consider me to be disobeying orders!" Ssofeg informed. "The important thing right now is to make sure we have a 'later' to worry about." Betvoss knew that plenty of commanders would have done no such thing, that they would have waited for orders before doing anything, even if it could save their lives. As it was, Ssofeg looked tormented before the rest of the squad stated that it was the right decision.

Even though they were away from the flames, Betvoss had some difficulty breathing because of the endless smoke. Even though it was nearly pitch-black, his eye turrets could see it everywhere. Premas looked as if he was about to fall unconscious.

"Are they addled?" Premas asked, coughing as he did so. "They're willing to burn their city to the ground?" Betvoss hated to admit it, but it certainly looked that way. No rational being would ever destroy their own city in such a fashion, but then, the Big Uglies proved that they were not rational creatures. Once they saw that the Race was superior to them, they should have stopped fighting and given in, but they hadn't.

The raid was over, but the fires continued to burn. The Race had little idea where to even begin putting them out, and thus focused their efforts on moving their males out of its path. The Tosevites were just as terrified and were also scrambling to get out, impeding the Race's efforts. Even numerous incidents of their males shooting Tosevites who didn't move fast enough did nothing to stop the panicking crowds.

"By the emperor, how did they do that?" Betvoss gasped out once it was all over, momentarily forgetting to lower his eye turrets, which said a lot about the sheer horror coursing through his body. Eventually, they found water mains in order to contain the fires, but even so, they caused an enormous amount of damage. He saw the remains of some of his fellow males who were caught in the blaze and prayed to the emperor that their deaths were quick.

"We should make them pay dearly for this!" Skyrim hissed furiously, his tailstump quivering. He raised his rifle, sorely tempted to take his frustration out on the homeless Tosevites, of which there were now legions of.

"No, our superiors will decide on a suitable course of retaliation." Ssofeg declared, pulling his weapon down. "Something like this cannot go unanswered." They spoke with other males, who confirmed that other Race-occupied cities had received the same treatment.

"Just when we think we've won, the miserable Big Uglies hatch something new from their eggs." Premas complained.

XXXXXXXXXXX

August 11, 1982:

"So where are we bombing this time?" Wuppah wondered. In the past three yeartenths, his squadron had been deployed all around the world. Even with the Big Uglies' advanced technology, he had been confident that they would have smashed their air power by now.

"I think the natives call it France." Atvar responded. Their attack into the southern half of that empire was still advancing, but it was moving slower almost by the day. Hopefully, they'd be able to change that.

"Can't be worse than our last deployment." Nesser hissed.

"Truth," everyone in the vicinity muttered. Their base had been attacked on the ground, with the enemy succeeding in destroying close to twenty killercraft. What was even worse was that their radar had given them no sign that anything was within 100 tlocks of their location. The Tosevites hit them with everything they had, then disappeared without a single trace, despite their best efforts to locate and destroy their craft.

"We'd better get ready; we'll be launching soon." Atvar declared, putting on his flight suit. This was one of the few areas of Tosev 3, what the locals called North Africa, where it wasn't necessary for them to protect themselves from the cold.

Wuppah couldn't help but notice that most of the overconfidence his fellow pilots held was gone. They knew this conquest was going to be a challenge and that acting like nobody could hurt them was a very good way to get killed. Those would were unable to adapt were either dead or captured by the enemy.

He hissed in disappointment when he saw his weaponry. He was given only fourteen missiles instead of eighteen, split evenly between air-to-air and air-to-ground. Still, he should probably consider himself lucky that it wasn't worse, considering how much ammunition they were currently using. "Means I'd better watch myself." Wuppah said to himself. If he went down, the Race would lose a pilot, a killercraft, and valuable missiles all at once.

After making all the standard checks, he took off, ready to deliver another blow on behalf of the Race. "Intelligence believes that enemy killercraft will be minimal, but the French are believed to have formidable ground-to-air weaponry." Hefron warned. "Be sure to stay at maximum altitude until such defenses are obliterated.

"It shall be done." Wuppah made the affirmative hand gesture to himself. He pushed his killercraft hard, going to maximum altitude.

Their bombers, unfortunately, did not have such a high flight ceiling, forcing the rest of them to stay at their level. They were still safe from many ground to air installations, but not all. Wuppah wished that thought had not occurred to him.

They had only just passed over Tosevite-held territory when they began to fire. Dozens of missiles were already headed in their direction. "Jammers, full power!" Hefron ordered.

"It shall be done," everyone else responded.

"Let's see how they like this." Atvar let his mouth hang open, firing two of his air-to-ground missiles at the installations. Wuppah fired only one, believing that they had not yet reached the heaviest concentrations. Not all of them were firing missiles, either; some Tosevite anti-killercraft weapons were simply guns. Some may have been primitive, but they had taken down killercraft in the past, so they were not to be underestimated.

"They can't reach us up here!" Nesser hissed. Even so, he fired a couple of intercepting flares to make the enemy's job more difficult. He was arrogant and cocky at first, but had become more cautious since.

"How can they hide these things in our territory?" Atvar hissed in frustration. Not all of them were in Tosevite-held territory, not by a long shot.

"If only I knew..." Wuppah responded. Even so, most of their installations had been destroyed, so they lowered altitude as they reached their target in Central France.

"Most of this city and surrounding towns is still held by the Big Uglies." Hefron warned. "If you hit any of our males by mistake, I promise you'll never see a killercraft again for as long as you live."

Fortunately, none of them had that problem. The fighters launched their air-to-ground missiles first, for precision attacks. Once that was over, the bombers unleashed their payload, destroying everything in their path. Wuppah knew some Big ugly buildings were built to withstand such a barrage and wondered just how much this raid would truly do to their industrial capacity. _Wonder if those firebombs would be more effective. _Wuppah mused. Those raids had proven to be very costly to the Race. Even more Tosevites had died in them, but it didn't seem to bother them at all.

The attack had gone surprisingly well, not that Wuppah would admit his doubts to any of his fellow pilots. "Excellent work, males of the Race!" Hefron complimented. "This should give them something to think about."

"We'll win this struggle yet!" Atvar stated. A few minutes later, however, they were detecting enemy killercraft headed their way. Based on the alarmed transmissions, they were detecting at least a couple hundred, meaning that their squadrons were slightly outumbered.

"How far away are they?" Nesser wondered.

"According to our starships... about 75 Tlocks." Hefron informed after a few moments of hesitation, turning his craft to meet the new threat that was about to await them.

_Should have known this wouldn't be so easy. _Wuppah complained to himself. It was only a matter of minutes before each side got into range of one another.

"Where could they possibly be coming from? Atvar inquired. "There's nowhere on land where so many could launch without us seeing it!"

Wuppah believed that there was something he was missing. No, the Big Uglies couldn't have launched them from land; they would have been noticed and their base destroyed before so many killercraft were launched into the air. What did that leave? "What about water?" That was the only conclusion he could came to, although how they managed to launch so many from there, he didn't know.

"What do you mean?" Hefron inquired.

"They might have launched them from boats in the water." Wuppah explained. "I know it's an addled idea, but it's the only thing I could think of."

"I may have to pass that on to our superiors once this fight is over." Hefron admitted. "For now, prepare yourselves." It was only a matter of minutes before they came into range.

Having the altitude advantage, the Race fired first, although the Tosevites were prepared, unlike the last major air battle in the area. They launched their own weapons within a few seconds of the Race, each side taking full evasive action and launching whatever countermeasures available.

One of them came dangerously close to Wuppah's craft, with a pair of flares and his speed only just enough to keep him from being killed. Other pilots were not so lucky, with their screams being the only thing he heard. A few succeeded in ejecting, but it was likely that they would end up being captured. They were deep in enemy territory, so chances of being picked up by friendly forces were slim.

"They'll pay for that!" Atvar hissed furiously, launching every one of his air-to-air missiles. Due to the extensive jamming, only a minority on either side were hitting their targets. Only one missile hit its target.

The race swooped down on the enemy killercraft, taking advantage of their superior speed. The tactic worked, to a certain extent. A dozen enemy craft were wiped before they caught on, but the Tosevites adapted quickly and still had hundreds of killercraft left to fight with.

"Look out!" Nesser warned. "They're trying to surround us!" It looked as if the group was splitting in two, intent on outflanking their killercraft and ensuring no escape.

"Fools; we can destroy each group, one at a time!" Atvar cheered.

"Don't be too sure of that." Hefron warned. As if to prove his words, two more killercraft were destroyed. "If the Big Uglies are anything, they're clever. Make sure they can't surround us."

Knowing they were in danger, Wuppah launched all his remaining air-to-air missiles. If his superiors complained, he'd have to explain the situation. They wouldn't do him or the Race any good if he was shot down. Two Big Ugly aircraft were destroyed, but the remaining two managed to evade and disrupt them.

"Will these creatures never learn?" Atvar demanded. Every few seconds, another killercraft went on, either of Tosevite or Race manufacture. Their bombers were especially hard hit, being unable to maneuver nearly as much as the fighters and being a prime Tosevite target.

The fight soon devolved into dogfights, with some of the enemy craft actually in visible range. Having expended all his missiles, Wuppah fired his guns at the closest enemy killercraft. The craft evaded, but his killercraft took such a sharp turn that the pilot blacked out, sending him crashing straight into the ground. Wuppah was only able to fire one more burst before he was out of bullets and thus, out of weapons.

Two missiles were detected heading directly towards him. He only barely had time to hit the ejection button before they slammed into his killercraft, blowing it into dozens of pieces. He felt his right arm snap as his body flew through the air on a collision course with Tosev 3. The stress of it was too much for him to bear and he could not muster enough coordination to hit the parachute on his seat.

Fortunately, at one Tlock, it deployed automatically. Wuppah would have been grateful for that, at least if his mind was clear enough to actually think. As his descent stabilized, he was more clearly able to observe his surroundings.

_My craft destroyed and deep into enemy territory; not the brightest of scenarios. _Wuppah thought, knowing that it was likely he would be captured. Not wanting to find out how the Big Ugly savages would treat him, he resolved to hide and wait for a rescue operation. In fact, he wasn't sure whether or not he was in Race-controlled territory or not.

Ultimately, his parachute became trapped on one of Tosev 3's plants. Wuppah grabbed one of the branches and released the parachute from his body once he was satisfied that the branch was capable of supporting his weight.

Slowly, he climbed down the plant, his sharp fingernails able to pierce the surface of it. Each movement was agony with his broken arm now that the adrenaline was wearing off, but his fear of capture drove him to continue. _No Big Uglies so far, praise the Emperor. _He thought, briefly lowering his eye turrets at the thought of his sovereign. Once he was back on solid ground, he evaluated his current situation, trying to remember exactly where he was flying when his killercraft was destroyed.

From what he could remember through the pain, large parts of this territory were controlled by the Race, but whether he landed in friendly or enemy territory, he did not know. There was a microchip implanted in his body, as there were in all killercraft pilots in case a plane was either shot down or suffered a mechanical malfunction, although because of the way the Race built anything they possessed, the latter was extremely unlikely.

For the time being, Wuppah decided to simply stay where he was. With his arm, he was unable to do any significant traveling, in any case. Strange sounds filled the atmosphere, each one making him jump. He imagined each and every one of them was a Big Ugly ready to blow his brains out at the slightest provocation. He pulled out his own weapon, despite being in no condition to use it properly.

_Come on, please hurry up! _Wuppah mentally screamed, his mouth still making groans of agony. The logical part of his brain knew it had only been a few minutes since his crash-landing and the rescue mission would likely take at least a daytenth or two, depending on how far away he was from the nearest base.

He sat down, managing to get into as comfortable a position he could manage under the present circumstances, making a mental effort to keep his left arm still. His right held his weapon; if he was found, Wuppah made a mental promise to go down fighting. His eye turrets scanned both the skies and the ground, at least what he could see of it. Wuppah was able to blend into the environment, his olive scales giving him a measure of camouflage. He lost all conscious thought soon afterwards.

A rustle in the bushes woke his up. He immediately stood up and pointed his pistol in its general direction. Had he been an infantrymale, Wuppah would have dived into the ground to hide from any bullets that could soon be heading in his direction. However, having no experience in that field and his broken arm hindering his ability to think, he made himself an easy target.

At the next rustle, he emptied his entire clip into it, firing wildly and screaming. "Stay away! I am a Male of the Race!"

"Are you the one?" He heard a voice hiss in the background. It had to be a Male of the Race; no Tosevite could imitate their speech patterns so perfectly. Two cautiously stuck their heads out from behind one of the trees.

"Are you here to rescue me?" He asked eagerly. "Please get me out of here, superior sir!" He did not know what the other male's rank was, nor did he care. All he wanted was to get out of there and back into the cockpit of a killercraft where he could strike at his enemies with relative safety.

"Are you injured?" One of them asked, but his eye turrets immediately went to his arm. A drug was injected that reduced the pain and the male yelled for a stretcher. They put him on as gently as they could under the circumstances and hurried off.

"Have you spotted any of the natives?" Wuppah could only vaguely make out the words, but they were unmistakable.

"We may control this area, but bandits infest this place." A second warned. "Spend no more time here than necessary."

A hovering killercraft touched down for the pickup. Wuppah was carefully carted in, with a squad of males standing guard, wary for any attacks. The danger wasn't over just yet. They had painted a symbol on their killercraft that the Big Uglies recognized as medical craft in order to deter attacks, but it was no sure protection and everyone knew it.

Not long after they took off, Wuppah could hear missile fired in their direction. Even in his drugged-up state, he was terrified for his life. He had already been in a killercraft crash once; he doubted that he would be lucky enough to survive a second time around. He attempted to turn towards the window in order to see what was going on, but was held down by the medics. "Careful; you do not want to further damage your arm." He made an empathetic cough.

They lived to fight another day, fortunately. Even though his superiors tried to sound optimistic, he knew that hovering killercraft were hideous vulnerable to Big Ugly attacks. Wuppah was slightly surprised that they risked one for his safe return, but was grateful they did. He would not have survived very long out there. _Spirits of Emperors past, I nearly died out there!_

Even with the astonishing technological advance the Big Uglies had achieved, Wuppah had never taken the prospect of being killed by them seriously. Now, though... he was very, very lucky to still be around, while some of his comrades had gone to serve the emperors in the afterlife. The thought filled him with pure dread while he began to question if the Big Uglies could be successfully conquered.


	7. Chapter 7

September 9, 1982:

_Amazing how something so terrifying can become normal. _Melanie thought as bombs exploded above them. After the first incident, they made sure that there was an actual bomb shelter nearby that they could use. It'd survive anything but a direct hit, so while not perfectly safe, it was far better than waiting at home.

"Never seems to end, does it?" Thomas sighed, trying to hide just how nervous he was. Had there been room, he would have started to pace around. "Least we've got some food in here." The aliens were entering the city, although they were still miles away from their current residence.

"We'll get through this, just like all the other times." Melanie reassured, trying to silence her private doubts.

"Have a feeling we're going to have to deal with worse soon." Thomas informed. "I don't think we're going to be able to hold them, meaning that we either figure out a way to life under occupation, or flee the city and try and fight back."

"Shit, just what we needed." Melanie shook her head. "Fucking aliens; why couldn't they just stay on their own goddamned planet?" She spit on the ground furiously, as if that would do anything about the planes currently pounding their city. "Hell, our greatest success was dropping napalm on our own cities!" She pulled her hair in frustration, trying and failing to keep herself together.

After several minutes, the raid was finally over and they slowly exited the bomb shelter. Technically, it was a fallout shelter, but it served the same function. "Let's go home." Melanie declared. _Let's see if we have a home to go back to._

The destruction the aliens were visiting on the city was beginning to add up. Although they primarily targeted industrial areas, thousands of civilians had already died. Perhaps tens of thousands; the government was concealing the exact numbers. Either way, it wasn't good. She always prayed that nobody she knew would end up being one of the casualties.

"Melanie, I have a confession to make." Thomas admitted. After a moment's hesitation, he continued: "They've drafted me into the defense of this city. I'm supposed to report tomorrow in order to receive what training I can."

"Didn't you tell them no?!" Melanie screeched.

"It's not like I have a choice." Thomas sighed. "Besides... I've got to do something. I can't just stand here and watch these SOBs take over the country. We're already in constant danger just from the air raids. If I'm going to die, I'd at least like the chance to fight back." Melanie looked into her brother's eyes and saw his terror, but at the same time... there was a certain determination.

_Why did you have to choose now for the time when you decide to finally stand up for yourself? _Melanie groaned. She'd be demanding he show some courage for years and not fight his battles for him. Now that he was doing just that, she wished he'd just be his normal meek self. _Please, god, if you keep him safe, I'll do anything you ask. _

Both of them sat down, debating their options. They knew they could flee and in order to keep him from being on the front lines. On the other hand, he was right. They were already in danger every day from the constant bombing, and they could quite easily die on the trip to safety. Melanie was torn; she was both furious that her brother would do this, but at the same time... she also felt proud of him.

Melanie got to her feet, getting a bottle of vodka out of the cabinet. She hadn't had a drink for over a year, but she needed something to distract herself from what was about to happen. Thomas ripped it out of her friends and kept it away from her, much to her frustration.

"Give me that, you son of a bitch!" Melanie screamed at him, clawing his face.

"Go to hell; I'm dumping this!" Thomas glared back. "You don't need this shit!"

"Yeah, I do; now give it to me!" Melanie demanded, kicking him in the shin. Thomas set the bottle down and tackled her to the floor, refusing to let her up. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't break free. She cursed him with every word she knew, trying to slap him, only to find her arm pinned. Her brother weighed almost twice as much as her and was a lot stronger, so she was eventually forced to admit that she wasn't going anywhere.

"Stop being so damn selfish!" Thomas demanded of her. "You think you're the only one having a difficult time with everything?! I'm about to die and you're the one trying to drink yourself into oblivion!"

"Don't say that; Fuck!" Melanie snarled.

"Hey, I'm not blind to the possibilities, all right?" Thomas glared at her. "You think I'm not just as terrified as you? That all the worst case scenarios have played out in my head a hundred times over? But I've got to fight, and I'm going to! And I'd prefer that you support me rather than making this worse!

Melanie's anger began to evaporate. Her brother had a lot of talents, but being a soldier wasn't one of them. He was right; the city needed everyone they could get their hands on, however much she despised it. She wondered absently if this was how her parents felt when their older siblings and parents went off to war during World War II. On one level, she knew it was going to be necessary if they wanted a chance to win, but she didn't want anything to happen to him. "Just... just be careful, ok?" Melanie whispered.

"I'll do my best." Thomas responded. "I can't promise anything, especially since my training starts tonight. I've already informed my boss. Pretty much everyone over there is going into this program, with either people too old or too young to fight taking our jobs."

"Look, just don't do anything crazy, all right?" Melanie begged him. "If you're in trouble, don't try any noble sacrifice, or giving your life up. Just stay alive, ok?" Thomas gave her a stern look, knowing just as much as she did that neither of them could guarantee anything, but she didn't want to think about it just then.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid, ok?" Thomas promised, hugging her.

Melanie said nothing further; she knew nothing was going to change his mind. She grabbed some food from the kitchen, carefully rationing it for the bad times ahead. Her stomach growled in protest, which she did her best to ignore. Compared to her brother, though, she had it easy; he was a lot bigger than she was. She fell asleep, ideas beginning to float through her head.

The next morning, it felt like she had barely slept. Indeed, she was woken twice from air raids and artillery in the distance. She rubbed her eyes in an effort to wake herself up, wishing that coffee was still available. Melanie knew that this was a major risk, but she believed it would be worth it.

"Didn't expect to see you up this early." Thomas remarked with his pillow over his face on the couch.

"You couldn't sleep either?" Melanie asked. It wasn't a question; the answer was quite apparent with the dark circles under his eyes. "When do you have to leave?"

"Have to be there in two hours, and I figure it'll take around half an hour to get there, assuming minimal artillery shells." Thomas mused. "Well, wish me luck."

_It's now or never. _Melanie thought. "I'm coming with you. If you can fight, so can I." Melanie waited for his response, anticipating his fury.

"I'd ask if you've lost your mind, but it seems quite apparent that you have." Thomas muttered. "Why the hell are you doing this?"

"You already gave the exact reasons yesterday." Melanie declared. She was scared, as everyone in their right mind would be, but she earned her reputation for stubbornness. "If you can fight, so can I!"

"But... but... but..." Thomas stammered out, trying to think of some kind of reason why she shouldn't do this. He was never good at improvisation and had never been able to talk Melanie out of anything. She simply waited there with her arms crossed, daring him to protest. A faint smirk came from the corner of his mouth as he sighed in defeat.

"All the reasons you gave are just as valid for me as they are for you." Melanie pointed out. "Besides, I doubt they'll turn down my help; they need everyone they can get their hands on."

"Can never talk you out of anything," Thomas sighed and shook his head, but made no further argument. Both of them saw down, lost in their nervous thoughts. They didn't even have any television or for that matter, enough light to read anything. There was no electricity now, not at any time of the day. What energy the city still produced went straight to the war effort.

The time passed quickly, as it always does for any individuals that are frightened or nervous. They looked at one another and began walking out the door. The instant Melanie walked outside, her eyes squinted as they worked to adjust to the bright light. "So where is this place?" Melanie asked, mostly to break the awkward silence.

"It's about a mile north, underground." Thomas responded. "We'll probably be going into the sewers to train, such as it is, anyway." He cursed as he stepped into a pothole, hopping on one feet. Despite the seriousness of their situation, Melanie couldn't help but give a brief chuckle. It was good to know that some things would never change.

"Are you sure you know exactly where this is?" Melanie pressed. She briefly considered going back. Unlike her brother, she wasn't being drafted into civil defense, but dismissed that idea as soon as it entered her head.

"Yes, I do." Thomas replied. "Can't believe you're actually doing this."

"Well, someone's got to keep you out of trouble." Melanie smiled, a genuine one much to her surprise. "Besides, what kind of sister would I be if I let you fight alone?"

From a distance, it looked just like any other building. That is, except for the crowd gathering around it. There were hundreds of people there, making Melanie look up at the sky for any alien aircraft. It wouldn't do them much good, not caught out in the open. Hopefully, they didn't recognize the significance of this building. Thomas sighed and began to pace.

"So what now?" Melanie inquired.

"Far as I can tell, we wait here until someone lets us in." Thomas replied. It looked like something that was set up on the spur of the moment, not planned. Annoying as it was, Melanie supposed it wasn't a big surprise under the circumstances.

"Melanie!" She heard Katherine call her name. "Should have guessed you'd be here!"

"So how long have you been stuck out here?" Melanie embraced her friend, feeling less alone. "Seems like forever to me and I just got here."

"I've lost count," Katherine replied. "You should have seen what the crowd was earlier this morning. Looks like just about everyone's ready to fight. Even saw a few WWII veterans, as impossible as it sounds."

"Well, they've been through this before." Thomas remarked. "In Germany's last days, even the very old and very young picked up guns to fight."

"Not a good example; they still lost." Melanie pointed out.

"So did the Soviet Union when it looked like they would collapse." Thomas continued. "Still, it doesn't seem like we're that desperate yet."

"Yeah, thank god." Katherine sighed, rubbing her hand through her hair. "How much longer is this going to take?" Just as soon as she uttered those words, she was called forward. Melanie and Thomas both wished her good luck, hoping she'd manage to survive.

"God, are we going to be stuck here all day?"Melanie growled in frustration.

"Didn't know you were so eager to fight," Thomas smirked. "Lizards are probably even more afraid of you than your classmates were high school."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Melanie groaned. She hated being reminded of her high school days, even if her brother was only making a joke.

A couple minutes later, the two of them were called in. If the soldier at the desk was surprised by seeing a woman volunteering, he didn't show it. "Thanks for your patience." He stated. "If you would please follow me..." He got up from his seat and led them downstairs. Melanie knew the reason was likely that he didn't want either of them wandering on their own.

After going close to two floors downstairs, Melanie saw half a dozen people at the end of the room, hands behind their back, looking sternly at the rest. She expected that they were the officers in charge. They were beckoned forward and stood right in front of them, Thomas twitching nervously. Melanie looked directly at them, refusing to let herself be intimidated.

"State your names," the man in the center said with a no-nonsense tone in his voice. His name tag identified him as Martin.

"Thomas Sullivan, sir." Thomas replied, deciding to salute. "Reporting for duty.

"Melanie Sullivan," She said, saluting as well. _Figure I may as well try and do this properly. _

"Same last name; she your wife?" Martin inquired, staring at Thomas.

"Uh... no... uh... Major." Thomas stammered out. "She's my younger sister and decided to volunteer." He stood stone-faced, but Melanie caught the impression he did not approve of her being there. Under the circumstances, however, they had bigger things to worry about.

"Repeat after me..." Martin ordered. "I, Thomas Sullivan..."

"I, Thomas Sullivan, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the offices appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice; so help me God." Thomas uttered with his hand up. Melanie uttered the same words, wondering what was going to be next.

"So how long is our training going to last?" Melanie asked.

"Basic Training is ordinarily ten weeks before you begin advanced infantry training." Martin informed. "Things being as they are, we'll give you as much training as we can before the enemy arrives." That would be a couple weeks at the most. The aliens were getting closer and closer.

Much to her surprise, they began drilling the two of them immediately, handing them both an unloaded M16. Absently, Melanie wondered why neither of them were being given any physical conditioning. She almost immediately answered her question when she remembered just how short on time they were.

September 11, 1982:

This was not where Alexis wanted to be at the moment. His helmet kept stone from falling on his head, but nothing could keep out a direct hit. The lizards were advancing on Orleans every day, while its defenders were being pushed back farther and farther. Only 1/4th of the city was currently being held by human forces.

However, that wasn't what was bothering him right now. As a soldier, Alexis knew he might have to sacrifice his life for his country. When Orleans was taken- and that was a when, not if by now- Paris would be next. They had no major obstacles after this, and if their capital fell... what then?

"We're still assisting them, even if we're here." Monetti reminded him when Alexis spoke his thoughts out loud. He felt some sympathy; Italy had been completely taken over, even if guerrilas were taking advantage of the mountains to make the aliens' lives miserable. France was at least partially free, even if large portions were occupied.

Artillery caught up Alexis' reply. He flattened himself to the ground as best he could, hoping that no large chunks of concrete slammed into his body. So far, it hadn't happened, but you never knew what could happen next. "Bastards!" Alexis spat. It still felt like far too weak a word for what he really wanted to say to them.

The shelling left up after a few moments. Absently, Alexis wondered if this is how his great-grandparents felt in the trenches of France during World War I. From stories he had heard, the enemy was in the habit of launching a second barrage just when they were about to relax and considered themselves safe.

"Can't let them overrun us," Monetti responded, getting to his feet. Alexis followed, knowing he was right. Better to guess wrong about more shelling than be a sitting duck of whatever infantry advance the lizards were likely to make.

_Not that advancing is going to be easy through that. _Alexis thought as he looked over the city. Large parts of it were in ruin, with their inhabitants either refugees or dead. On a few occasions, he even helped himself to the food they left behind. Not like they needed it where they were.

Everything that the defenders could do to make the city impassable to the enemy, they had done. Tank traps were everywhere, with thousands of people carrying anti-tank rockets. Others were using the rubble itself as cover, armed with machine guns. It likely wouldn't take out many lizards, but it would keep their heads down and unable to kill them.

"Looks like they're coming." Alexis heard one of the nearby men say. He admired him as to how he was able to keep all fear out of his voice.

The aircraft made numerous passes as well, killing as many humans as possible. Alexis that they would be able to shoot them down, but anti-aircraft weapons were in short supply at the moment. Every once in a while, they got lucky. "Where are our fucking aircraft?" Alexis cursed at no one in particular. They had seen few signs of them since the initial days of combat. He hoped that they were keeping them in reserve for the right moment, instead of all of them being destroyed.

"Probably try and advance while they're bombing us, at least as much as they can, while our heads are forced down." Said one of the local commanders. "That's what I'd do, at least."

Alexis started firing, even though the smoke was nearly blinding him. He didn't expect to hit anything, but anything was better than simply waiting in place to die. A couple machine guns opened up in the area, with the aliens returning fire. He just hoped that they were as blind as his own side was at the moment. Screams here and there indicated his group was taking casualties.

He kept his eyes everywhere, just in case they made an attempt to outflank them. So far, they hadn't done so. "Wonder why; it's the first thing I'd try to do." Intelligence stated that they weren't great soldiers in the tactical sense, which was likely why Europe was still in the fight instead of being completely crushed.

Once the smoke cleared, he saw the lizards slowly moving forward. A couple were down, with medics tending to their injured comrades. Alexis was tempted to shoot them down, but refrained. The lizards had mostly played fair with their medics and he didn't want to give them any motivation to change their minds.

One of the soldiers near him had his head blown off by a machine gun bullet, spraying the rest of the group with blood and bone. Alexis bit his lip to keep from throwing up. He couldn't lose it, not now. He fired his rifle from cover, ready to move back to another position if necessary. Even so, it appeared as if the lizards were unable to advance.

It continued for a while, with each side using suppressive fire in an effort to advance their troops. Alexis had a feeling that the stalemate wasn't going to last long, however.

He was proven right when their artillery opened up again, even thicker than before. He curled into a ball, digging whatever foxhole he could under such short notice, which wasn't much. Even with adrenaline driving him, he found it difficult to dig through the rubble. Once he reached solid concrete, he knew he was going no further. "Make it stop!" he screamed. None of the other soldiers took any notice of him; some were even screaming the same thing. He felt his arms and legs turn to jelly, and found himself unable to move.

"They're coming; get ready, you sons of bitches!" Alexis heard someone shot, although he couldn't tell exactly where the order was coming from. He took several deep breaths and after the third attempt, pushed himself to his feet.

The second attempt from the aliens was a lot more aggressive. At least to his eye, they had more men and equipment. No armor, thank god, but numerous Armored Personnel Carriers. Alexis grabbed one of his grenades and threw with all his point, hoping that it would accomplish something, but didn't stay to find out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone launch an anti-tank rocket at one of the vehicles, blowing it to pieces and likely killing all the occupants. He himself was killed shortly after, but it was a reminder that the aliens were not invincible. Knowing that made Alexis feel better, or at least more willing to fight on.

Even so, however, he saw that the line was not going to hold. The lizards were only 100 meters away and closing quickly. The only time they stopped was when their aircraft or artillery bombed their positions once again. "Retreat; fall back to the next line of defense!" The commander screamed through Alexis' radio. Until he heard the man's voice, Alexis had almost forgotten he even carried the thing.

They retreated by squads, with the first group falling back and the other two providing as much covering fire as they can. Alexis knew he was fortunate to actually have cover, but knew it was no sure protection. He bit down the urge to simply run as fast as he could away from danger. He clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood and simply moved to the next defensive line about 250 meters to the west.

Not everyone made it, not by a long shot. Some were cut down by lizard bullets, while others fell victim to shelling. Alexis waited nervously for the next attack. Their defensive line was still forming and if the lizards pursued them, they could punch through.

But they didn't. For reasons Alexis could not understand, they decided to stop and hold on to what they'd already taken. He dug a deeper foxhole, deciding to take full advantage of the lull in the action. Not that it would do him any good if a shell exploded close enough, as he knew perfectly well. He cautiously looked over the horizon, readying himself for a further attack.

Their planes continued to pound what little of Frankfurt they still held, as did their artillery, but at the moment, the lizards decided not to try another push. "My god, I didn't think we were going to get through that one." Alexis vocalized the fears that everyone else had.

"Yeah, got more lives than a cat." Damien Evans agreed. He was one of the few Canadians in the city, although he was frequently mistaken for someone from the United States, much to his frequent annoyance. He went back to English, meaning that Alexis had some trouble following him. "We've taught them to be cautious, at least."

"Still no closer to freeing my country," Fredrich scowled, also in English. Alexis could speak both French and German fluently, but English was more difficult to follow.

"We're no closer to freeing anyone." Pierre Bastion sighed. He was one of the older soldiers at the age of 36. Alexis was grateful to see him around, being that most were either German or American. He fired a clip in frustration towards the lizard position, cursing the entire time. Afterwards, he let out a deep sigh and buried his face in his arms; everyone around him knew it was to keep them from seeing him cry.

Everyone struggled to keep their morale up. They had hurt the aliens, but were still no closer to stopping them. Alexis worried about his family in France, including members that he never believed he'd never miss, not if he lived to be a thousand. He hadn't heard from them for over a month, not knowing if they were alive or dead, and he feared the worst.

That night, they received new orders. "We're leaving." Bastion informed. Alexis' jaw dropped down in shock. They were being pushed back, but they weren't beaten yet. Why were they leaving?!

He knew better than to disobey, however. "Where are we going?" Alexis forced himself to ask.

"We're retreating into the woods, try and take some shots at them before they reach our capital." Bastion responded. "Hey, I'm no happier about this than you are." He added at Alexis' furious glare. "I'm just following orders. We've leaving tonight so we aren't caught in a rout." It made sense; if the aliens caught them as they were retreating, it would be a bloodbath.

XXXXXXXXXX

September 14, 1982:

He had a slight grin as he witnessed his NATO counterparts shivering, trying to adapt to the cold on Iceland. Being from the Soviet Union, Andrei was far more accustomed to such conditions.

_Still, I've got a job to do. _Andrei sighed. All the major powers decided to send some of their commanders to Iceland in order to coordinate their attacks. Being that intelligence reports indicated that the lizards were from a land planet and thus did not see the significance of islands helped keep them safe. The fact that they also preferred a much warmer planet didn't hurt, either.

Most of the time they spent was bickering. Despite the best hopes of all the powers, only a limited amount was being accomplished. Some of the generals were pushing for nuclear retaliation, India and China in particular. Their situation was much more severe and they had much less left to fight with. Sheer numbers were enough to hold the aliens back on occasion, but it also meant that even the few victories they won came at a very high price.

Both the Soviet Union and the United States were pressuring the others to refrain from using nuclear weapons. Personally, Andrei felt that it wasn't going to work much longer, but the effort had to be made. Nobody wanted to find out by experiment how the lizards would react to such an escalation. "And so here we are."

"Now gentlemen, I am pleased to report that the offensive into the American southwest has been repelled." General Roscoe Robinson smiled proudly, as if he was personally responsible for it. Andrei knew that he was the first black man to achieve such a rank in the United States. "NATO has also taken the offensive in Hanover and are steadily forcing the aliens out of the city."

Andrei scowled; he noticed he said nothing of recent Soviet offensives in Siberia, but he wasn't surprised at that. They might have been allies since the lizards had arrived, but they would never be friends. "Minor offensives and stalemates do not win wars." Andrei reminded, enjoying seeing Robinson's lip twitch. "On most other fronts, our forces continue to give ground. This war is not even close to over."

"My government would like to know when your promised help will arrive." Rajesh Madan pointed out. "Meerut and Panipat have just fallen, leaving New Delhi open for attack. Even our cooperation with the Pakistani military has not been sufficient to slow them down, much less halt their advance." Out of all the major powers represented in Iceland, India's situation was likely the most desperate.

"A shipments of tanks, anti-aircraft missiles, and small arms are being sent to you at this very moment." Andrei informed him. Currently, the Soviet Union was the biggest supplier of their military, being in closer geographical proximity than the United States was. Cargo ships were transporting as many T-72s, T-80s and anti-aircraft weapons as Bresnev believed he could spare from the front lines. That was unlikely to make much difference, however, which both he and Madan knew.

"We will do everything we can for you." Lloyd promised. "Do keep in mind, however, that there is only so much we can spare for our allies. Nevertheless, I will contact the president and see what he says."

"Thatcher has also authorized a major supply run for both India and China." General Steven Jones promised, one of the British commanders sent to the island. Since Britain was at the moment free of invaders, they had more to spare for everyone else.

"Fortunately, events are slowly turning to our advantage." Leo Bellard gave a small smile. Unlike most of the others, he was fluent in several languages and needed fewer interpreters. The French commander had a slight smirk on his face. "The weather is already beginning to have an impact on the enemy and once the temperature drops, they will be ripe for a counterattack."

"Perhaps, but that still means a month, perhaps two before we can take full advantage of it." Qiang Li cautioned. "We should use the remainder or our air power to slow them down before we strike back. The plan will not help us in any way if we have nothing left to fight with."

"None of us have sufficient aircraft at the moment to stop them, and it is currently unwise to risk what we have left." Ludmila Gorbuonva cautioned. She had been a pilot of the Great Patriotic War, ultimately scoring 18 confirmed kills and had earned the Hero of the Soviet Union medal. She was busy training novice pilots how to face the enemy when she was ordered to Iceland. Andrei personally considered it a waste of her talents, but their superiors had thought differently. "We want to be able to defeat the lizards, not just annoy them."

"We cannot grant the enemy the initiative!" Madan insisted. "We must hit the enemy at every turn, snipe them from behind the lines, force them to overextend themselves. Luring them into overconfidence has its merits, but it will be mean nothing if they build themselves into a position too secure for us to break!"

"His point is valid." Jones agreed. "The plan will deliver a resounding success if it works, but all of us have enough experience to know that plans always go wrong in war. They will claim more territory, leaving us with less industry and a smaller population to fight back with. We cannot stake everything on a single plan."

"The lizards already have the initiative; will you deny that?" Ludmila stared at him keenly. Jones couldn't deny it. "We will not be sitting idle while we prepare our counterattack, contrary to what some of you might believe. Our partisans will be active in territories the enemy believes they control, who can provide both resistance and intelligence on their movements."

"We will also be supplying as many weapons as we can spare to occupied parts of the world." Lloyd responded. "This will keep them from transporting any reinforcements to assist them, and with luck, force them to withdraw some of their troops plaguing us to deal with their resistance fighters."

"It is important to keep in mind that this war is unlikely to have any great, decisive victories." Robinson pointed out. "This is a war of attrition, not a blitzkrieg. In spite of how hopeless it seems now, we have a major advantage over the lizards. We can replace our men and material, while they only have what they brought with them from Tau Ceti. As we fight on, we would do well to remember this."

_Is that where they're from? _Andrei did not consider it important what solar system they came from, as long as they could kick them out of the one that belonged to humans, regardless of which country they originated from.

"Numbers will make a difference, as will the equipment we can produce once we fully transition to a war-time economy." Ludmilla declared. According to their best estimates, the U.S. and NATO had achieved the best ratio, at roughly 3:1 in terms of males and equipment. For the Soviet Union, it was around 4:1.

"I assure you, the lizards are quite aware of our strategy, which is why they are attempting to seize as much territory as possible." Li proclaimed. "They have also figured out that our vehicles run on oil as opposed to hydrogen and are bombing as many refineries and wells as they can reach." Andrei could not blame him for sounding nervous. For India and China, the ratio was close to 10:1 and they had much less equipment to fight back with. It was hindering everyone, especially since the supplies of the Middle East were now closed to them.

"A nuclear strike would send a message to the lizards that we will fight back with everything we have." Medan informed. He was not alone; many generals in the Soviet Union were pushing for the same decision, even if Brezhnev was abiding by a no first use policy. "It would be cheaper in lives than throwing them away in conventional warfare."

"You're overlooking the fact that the lizards will hit back hard on whoever resorts to nuclear weapons first." Bellard warned. "And most of yours have already been destroyed, leaving you with a rather small stockpile."

"We should table the discussion about using nuclear weapons for the time being." Li interjected. "At a later date, we can resume, but for now, let us focus on how to repel them conventionally. Robinson is correct; this is a war of attrition, one that we can win without resorting to such extreme measures."

"We can use nuclear weapons as a last resort, if there is nothing else to fight with, but we are far from that point." Jones declared. "Bad as the situation appears, it is much less desperate than some in this room feared."

Andrei was a member of that group. He felt that if aliens were advanced enough to cross the vast gulf between stars, they would be advanced enough to defeat any human resistance. The comparison he had made was between the capitalist states conquering the natives. The natives fought hard, inflicted losses, even won a few victories, but were ultimately defeated. While the aliens were still more militarily advanced than then, it was to a much lesser degree than he believed in the past.

"The General Secretary has authorized me to inform you that their Conquest Fleet has been delayed from their original plan." Ludmila told them. "Their original plan was to launch the conquest eighty of their years before now. Their years are shorter than ours, but by how much, we do not know."

"According to our best estimates, their years are 180.125 days, slightly less than half of our own." Robinson cut in. "They would have arrived in roughly... April 1942." The news badly shook everyone in the room. Andrei was better able to hide it than most, his emotionless mask serving him well, but he had no doubt that his fellow generals could see right through it.

"If they had arrived in 1942... no way in hell could we have beaten them under those circumstances." Jones vocalized everyone's fears.

"I doubt we would have lasted six months." Bellard sighed. "We are fortunate that they delayed their offensive, but we cannot worry about what might have been. Concentrate on what we're dealing with now, which is quite bad enough."

"Some of our prominent science fiction authors are studying them." Robinson smiled. Andrei was about to say the idea was ridiculous when he remembered that they had made their careers speculating about what extraterrestrial would be like, how they would behave. "If they delayed their conquest by 40 years, and their technology is the same as it was then, the Race- their proper name- only technologically advances slowly."

"How can you be sure this is true?" Ludmilla asked. "We are here to gather facts, not speculate."

"Secondly, it is also irrelevant to our current war." Lloyd added.

"It may not be the most crucial piece of information, but it nevertheless gives us insight into who they are." Bellard realized. "While I know that this is a common trope of science fiction that no life but humans process technologically at a fast rate, this may be true in their case."

"How old is their civilization?" Andrei thought. The aliens were a few decades more advanced than humans were in terms of military capability, a few centuries in terms of interstellar travel. They couldn't be too old, or the war would have ended a long time ago.

"They sent a probe to see if we were worth colonizing in... 1141." Robinson declared, checking his notes. "If they took 841 years, twice as many as theirs, to try and conquer, I believe that says something about how swiftly they advance."

"From what we have been able to find out, their civilization is much older than ours, by thousands and thousands of years, and yet they seem to have advanced at a much slower rate." Jones smiled. "Good news for us; it means they won't be improving their military technology whereas we will be steadily meeting them on more equal terms."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves." Ludmila warned. "They may not be imaginative fighters, but they aren't stupid. If we start adapting, they will too."

"Agreed, but this also means that the advantage is ours." Robinson nodded. "They also appear to have sub-light ships, meaning that we won't have to worry about imminent reinforcements."

The debates and plans went on for the entire day. Andrei realized that coordinating a worldwide counterattack was going to be extraordinarily difficult. Each nation was in a different situation with their own beliefs on how to best combat the enemy. Once it was over, he would inform Brezhnev that India and China were the most likely to use nuclear weapons in the future. Despite his hopes, he personally doubted the taboo would last for much longer.


	8. Chapter 8

September 20, 1982:

_Just be patient, _Barzini told himself, trying to act as casual as he could. He had been in Simele for the past week, talking with other members of the Peshmerga in an effort to get them to agree to the shaky alliance they currently held.

Many of the other leaders were understandably reluctant. There were no shortage of tragic stories of atrocities, some of them even dwarfing his own. With alien invaders currently occupying Kurdistan, however, he felt that they had more important battles at the moment. Not everyone agreed with him, though, not even close.

Even while the Iraqi army and the Peshmerga were supposedly working together to fight the aliens, a significant amount of casualties came from one another. Barzini had heard rumors of skirmishes that were on the verge of being won, only to lose because one side or the other attempted to take the opportunity to slaughter the other group before the second was aware of it.

It made for an... interesting balance, and meant that resistance efforts were being greatly hampered. The aliens held all of Iraq now, though he intended to do whatever they could in order to make life miserable for them. Simele had a small garrison, although it was sufficient in size and technology to keep it out of human hands.

Every day, he wondered whether or not they would discover that he was one of the men fighting to free Kurdistan from their grip. Fortunately, they could not easily tell one human from another. He passed by a squad of lizards, making sure to appear as submissive as he could allow himself to be. While the majority were willing to fight them, even if they struck Saddam's army at the same time, a few believed the aliens were a better alternative to human rulers. Trying to keep track of who was who made life very exciting to put it mildly.

He continued to walk to his destination, no one paying him any mind. To most, he was just one more resident of Simele. Barzini looked up at the building, made on concrete unlike many others. Wishing that the Peshmerga had chosen a less obvious hiding place, he nevertheless knocked on the wall twice, on the door four times, then once, and twice more on the wall.

The door slowly opened and Barzini was greeted with half a dozen AK-47 pointed in his direction. Trying not to show fear, he stood his ground. One of them asked: "Why are you here?"

"You owe me 400 dinars, and it's time you paid up." Barzini responded, giving the code word for word. It was a clumsy one, not helped by the weapons trained on him, but it worked well enough. They let him inside and hurriedly shut the door. The blinds were shut in an additional effort of concealment.

"Why didn't you come at night?" One of them asked. "It would have been safer." If the boy was any older than fifteen, Barzini would have been amazed. Despite his young age, he'd seen action before; he had the look. _Dark times indeed, _Barzini thought to himself.

"Apologies about my son's misbehavior." The father spoke. "Please, feel free to make yourself at home. Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"I would take some Kubba and Biryani, if you have any to spare." Barzini answered. He was tempted to turn them down, but learned to take any opportunity to eat, being that he didn't know when he would have another opportunity. One of the other fighters rushed off to get what he requested. "So what am I here for and who are you?"

"You can call me Diyako." He responded. "This is my son Adar. As for why you are here, I'm authorized to tell you that there will be a shipment that we intend to pick up tonight and since you have experience dealing with them, I decided you would be a useful asset." Diyako gave him a slight glare. Barzini knew that some Kurds considered him a traitor for cooperating with the Iraqis, even if it was only a temporary alliance.

"And where is this meeting supposed to take place?" Barzini asked.

"In the hills out there, as concealed from the enemy satellites as can be managed." Diyako informed. "So far, the Race as left us alone, apart from the occasional artillery shell that is sent in our direction."

"So that's what they call themselves?" Barzini scoffed. Just their very name showed intolerable arrogance. It could be a useful bit of information, however unlikely that appeared at first glance, so he filed it off in his mind for further use. "If you plan on trying to drive them out of Simele, I would advise against it. They're much better equipped than us, and while they don't show the same level of brutality as Saddam, they will inflict many civilian casualties if it means defeating us."

"We have no intention of doing so... for the moment, anyway." Diyako informed. Not for the first time, Barzini regretted not having a formal command structure in the Peshmerga.

"What do you want me here for, then?" Barzini asked, hoping to strike a blow against the occupiers. "If we're going to fight, we'd better sneak out of the city when we can."

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that." Diyako dismissed. "We don't have the forces to do anything more than annoy them, certainly not kick them out of Simele. Of course, we don't have to throw them out in order to make their lives miserable." Some resistance fighters set IEDs on the roads, although the lizards' tanks were very resistant to damage.

"So that explosion I heard in the morning your handiwork?" Barzini wondered.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Diyako shrugged with a small smile on his face. Adar returned with his food before Barzini could reply. He thanked the young man for his hospitality. "Adar, have the others join us. This is information everyone needs to know."

"I'm listening; how will our brave resistance fighters hurt the lizards?" Barzini asked. Diyako did not answer him immediately. The others entered the room and surrounded him, waiting for the man to speak. Barzini had a rather unpleasant feeling about this.

"Tonight, there will be a meeting outside the city." Diyako informed. "My sources have told me that we are to receive a new shipment of weapons in order to resist the enemy from the stars." Everyone looked at him with anticipation. "The Soviet Union and the British are sending intelligence agents to deliver and teach us how to use them. Unfortunately, this is a mutual meeting with the Iraqi army."

Only the fact that somewhere in their mind, they registered that this was a secret meeting kept everyone from screaming in outrage. "So that's what you wanted me for!" Barzini snapped, the pieces beginning to come together. He had dealt with them once, and wished never to do so again! Granted, it appeared as if they were the regular army, not the Republican Guard. A fair number of them were just trying to serve their country, just as most other soldiers, but even so, it would be difficult for him.

"How can we possibly trust their kind?" One of them screamed. "My children were killed by those butchers!"

"Kill them and take the weapons for ourselves!" Another suggested.

"Silence; this decision has already been made!" Diyako ordered. Even his own son was looking at him was skepticism, but didn't say anything about his order in public. "I am no happier about this than you, but however much it pains me to admit it, this tactic is necessary. Allah has set us out on a difficult path, this I will not deny, but I will not hide from it, either."

"I agree; we must work with them for the moment." Barzini reluctantly concurred. He knew this was the will of Allah, but even so, he wished the path was less difficult. "Allah will guide us through these difficult times, but when all of this is over, we will be free. I have not gotten as far as I have because I was afraid or unwilling to cooperate with allies I found distasteful."

Barzini saw that the rest were coming to the same reluctant conclusion. It was still something he struggled with every day, despite the brief speech he had given them. The pain of his family's loss was still fresh and he had nothing left of them, not even photographs. He forced it to the back of his mind as best he could, being that he understood that if he did not do so, Barzini would be unable to cooperate with Saddam, possibly dooming all his people to subjugation.

"Perhaps we should separate, go back to our homes until the time comes for us to meet them." One of them suggested.

"Tamo, that is foolish; we would be obvious spies if we venture out now!" A second argued.

"The aliens won't know the difference between us and everyone else!" Tamo insisted. "I've walked right past them multiple times and none of them noticed anything out of the ordinary."

"Since this is a high-risk operation, we cannot afford to take unnecessary chances." Barzini stated. "We can wait in here until then. It isn't like we have many other important tasks to accomplish."

"It is up to you to decide whether to stay or go, but I believe the former is more advisable." Diyako informed. "Our weapons supplies are running low at the moment and insufficient to hurt the aliens to any significant degree. If, however, you choose to leave, the other members of the Peshmerga will need to be informed of this meeting."

_He still considers that it might be a trap. _Barzini realized. He was hoping he was simply being paranoid, but with another member coming to the same conclusion, the danger had only mounted. Still, he was determined to fight for his people's future, and vowed that if Saddam was setting up a lure that they would take his forces to hell with them.

Two of them left, while the rest stayed. Adar left the building to inform the others, his father hoping that such a young man would not attract the aliens' notice. They killed time swapping stories and attempting to get what sleep they could. Barzini curled up in the corner and snored loud enough to echo throughout the whole building.

He woke up to give his daily prayers before setting out on his mission. Barzini knew that he had been falling behind on his prayers to Allah and beseeched his forgiveness for his mistake. He prayed for safety, for guidance, and for victory against the Peshmerga's enemies.

"No, no weapons in the city." Diyako took the assault rifle out of his hands. "We must be invisible, hidden. The invaders will be much more suspicious of bystanders at night. We have a cache we can use; I will show you."

Nervously, Barzini walked outside, doing the best he could not to attract the attention of the Race. Even under cover and darkness and no electricity, he spotted a few men and women outside going about their business. He knew it was likely that some of them were either Peshmerga or their informants. The lizards sometimes caught one and made an example, but they missed ten for each one they discovered.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he got out of the city undetected. They were arriving at the coordinates by dribs and drabs, hoping that small groups would attract less notice. A series of gunshots echoed throughout the city, indicating that a couple of the men had been found and eliminated.

Barzini got lost twice before he found the cache Diyako had mentioned. He knew the area, but in near-total darkness, it was difficult to find his way around. There were hundreds of rifles, grenades, and even a couple MANPADs. Grabbing one of the Stingers in case of aerial attacks, he waited patiently for the others.

It took close to an hour by the time everyone had arrived, at which point it was completely dark outside, with only a slight amount of moonlight and a map to guide them. No one dared use a searchlight, as it would tell any potential enemies exactly where they were. Barzini hissed in pain as he stubbed his toe on a rock, hopping on one foot for several moments.

Three shots were fired in the air. Some readied their rifles, but Diyako ordered them to stand down; that was the pre-arranged signal. The other party was close by, even if they were out of visible range. Not for the first time, Barzini wished they had night-vision goggles, but they were hard to come by in the region.

Deciding to make the first move, he walked forward to see what the Peshmerga was being offered. _And whether this is legitimate or not, _Barzini added to himself, but kept his mouth shut. No point to frightening the men walking alongside him more. The regular army was better than the Republican Guard, but they still made his hair stand on end.

A dozen boxes were dropped next to them. A group of men stood there, waiting calmly. Even in the darkness, Barzini could tell that they were foreigners. Intelligence operatives, unless he was badly mistaken. "We have a delivery for our allies in the Peshmerga." One of them spoke in fluent Kurdish.

"Your assistance is appreciated." Barzini replied, opening the first box cautiously. None of them were small enough to carry back to Simele on hand, meaning that they would have to be very cautious about returning. In the box he opened, he found a BGM-71 TOW unit and a dozen missiles for its use. They would be of great use against the aliens. His men were brave but had few weapons that could damage their tanks; this would help equalize the fight.

"We have more that will be arriving soon." One of the operatives informed. Once Barzini got a close look at him, he realized that he was a member of the Mossad, Israel's intelligence agency. He scowled briefly at that; he cared little for Israel, as did most in the region, but considered Saddam's regime and the aliens far more repugnant so in spite of his brief surprise, it was of little difficulty.

He heard a couple brief sighs of relief that the meeting was going smoothly. Weapons from a dozen trucks were being unloaded as quickly as was practical. Most of them were small arms, but even those would be a great help to the resistance effort. _And I wouldn't mind having the opportunity to introduce Saddam's finest to them once the aliens are gone. _The idea gave him great pleasure.

Not everything went smoothly, however. Lizard aircraft had located the meeting and began dropping bombs on their location. Reflexes honed by battle, Barzini dived behind the nearest rock he could find, eyes wide open for an opportunity to hit back. Muzzle flashes were everywhere as they fired in every direction, although so far, the lizards had not yet sent ground troops. Perhaps they had been found purely by chance. At least Barzini hoped that was the case; he didn't like thinking of betrayal, but couldn't eliminate the possibility.

"Not exactly what I was hoping for." The Mossad operative muttered. He had dived behind the same rock as Barzini, his night vision goggles looking for a target of opportunity.

"Any troops coming for us?" Barzini asked, hoping he would have a better idea than himself. He was forced to yell in the operative's ear in order to make himself heard over the battle.

"Not yet, but I wouldn't doubt they're out there." He responded, slowly crawling out of his hidey-hole and heading towards the nearest heavy weapon he could lay his hands on.

"Have you lost your mind?" Barzini asked. Blasts from lizard tanks cut him off; the lizards either had troops with them or brought them over from nearby bases. He didn't care for the agent, but he was an ally and the Peshmerga had far too few of those. He decided not to use his weapon at the moment; no point in attracting attention until it was necessary.

"This should help equalize things." The operative smiled, slowly hauling the tripod to a concealed location. "They're not skilled fighters, but the lizards are learning." A lizard tank rumbled over the horizon. Barzini gulped and did his best not to soil himself. If they were spotted, they were dead; he doubted the boulder would be much protection against a direct shot.

"Come on, baby, just a little more..." The operative muttered. "Reload just as soon as I give the signal." Barzini picked up one of the warheads, hoping very much that this would not be his last day on Earth.

The tank pounded on their positions mercilessly, with aircraft finishing the job. "Got him!" The operative laughed, launching the missile right at the side of the tank. "Reload! Now!" Barzini hastily did so, hoping that he could move faster than the lizards operating that machine. The first shot had hurt it, but not killed it. The second succeeded in killing the crew before they could get their frontal armor to bear.

It was obvious that they had lost the skirmish, but Barzini felt his morale soar even so. They still managed to make off with many of the weapons and the lizards had still suffered considerable casualties. Barzini knew their losses could be replaced, even if it would take time to do so.

"Are you going to stay around?" Barzini asked. "We could use someone like you." _Jew or not, _He said mentally.

"Yes; that was always the plan." The operative replied.

"In that case... what's your name?" Barzini wondered.

"Reuven... Reuven Russie." He smiled.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 2, 1982:

"I thought that battle would never end." Betvoss sighed as he and his group marched through the terrain. Both eye turrets were in every direction, as the area was rugged and full of hills. They were in constant danger, being that the Tosevites knew the area and the Race did not.

"Yeah, who knew Big Uglies would be able to put up that kind of resistance?" Skyrim agreed. He had been grazed with one bullet and his body armor stopped another, keeping him out of commission for 2 year-tenths. Betvoss had heard that with their primitive medicine, it took Big Uglies far longer than that to be suitable for the field once again. "But Pittsburgh is ours and will stay ours."

"They know what they're doing, certainly." Premas agreed. Like many males of the Race were beginning to do, he wrapped Tosevite clothing around his body to protect himself from the cold. "Is it always so cold on this damned planet?" They were traveling by night in order to give them an advantage with night vision.

"It doesn't seem too bad to me." Votal gave a human-like shrug. Unlike many others in their battalion, he had lived close to the polar regions on Home so he was accustomed to cold to a greater degree than most of his comrades. "Not pleasant, but certainly bearable. In any case, this is a warm region of the lesser continental mass." The Race had succeeded in overrunning Kentucky, West Virginia, and Virginia and Arkansas with little difficulty. Some cities were still contested, but in many, the Americans had not even bothered trying to hold them. Perhaps they were making an impact after all.

All of them kept conversation to a minimum. Sounds of the native animals made them even jumpier than before and the fact that all of them were battle hardened was the only reason none of them opened fire. Betvoss hissed to himself when he accidentally stepped into a small hole.

"Are you all right?" Skyrim asked.

"Are they coming?" Premas worried, crouching down and readying his weapon.

"I apologize; I merely stepped into a hole." Betvoss sighed, cursing himself for doing something so clumsy. "Likely a home for one of the native creatures."

"I'd say those are the least of our worries." Premas' mouth hung open. "At least those creatures aren't liable to shoot at you."

"Truth," Skyrim agreed.

"Watch where you put your feet; the Big Uglies could have mines planted around here." Votal warned. Betvoss already knew as much, but also understood that it was a lesson worth repeating. Even now, some males were convinced that nothing could possibly harm them, though they were becoming fewer and fewer in number every day.

Betvoss eyed the hills, looking for Big Ugly bandits. He knew they were out there somewhere. Every Big Ugly in the area was considered an enemy, and they had an intelligence network that the Race never even dreamed of. They still had better technology, but what they were rapidly finding out was that it could not replace ground information.

He was soon proven right when the Tosevites opened fire. Two of their troopcarriers caught on fire, with the males providing as much covering fire as they could in order to buy the survivors enough time to escape.

"Spread out; if you bunch together, you're dead!" Their radios screamed. Betvoss took their advice without hesitation. Already a third troopcarrier had been hit, this time with no survivors. Even so, he hadn't yet figured out just where the shots were coming from.

"They've got landcruisers!" Skyrim screamed, partly in surprise, partly fear. They were supposed to have destroyed all of them by now. Like most assumptions when it came to the Big Uglies, that one proved to be inaccurate.

"They're over here; blow them to bits!" Betvoss heard one of his fellow males exclaim. Machine gun fire opened up on both sides, while he hoped it would be enough to keep them from advancing. The troopcarriers opened up with their anti-landcruiser rockets, wrecking three of the enemy vehicles. He had no idea whether or not their crews managed to escape.

Even from his position, however, Betvoss could see how they had chosen their spots carefully, where they could fire while revealing only a small part of their machine, giving them considerable protection. He fired nearly an entire clip at a pair of Big Uglies charging towards him. From 300 meters, he had no idea whether or not either of them had actually been hit, but they were at least forced to a stop.

The Race opened up with artillery, sending smoke flying in every direction. Even with his night vision equipment, he found it extremely difficult to see anything in the chaos. "How did such a large force sneak by us without noticing?" Skyrim snarled.

"I don't know, but whatever able failed to notice them should be shoved out the nearest airlock." Betvoss agreed, sounding even angrier than his comrade. Even through the firefight, he could hear cries of pain, telling him that his battalion was taking casualties. Whenever the enemy gave him the slightest hint as to his position, Betvoss fired. He had gone through 3 out of his eight clips just in the past couple minutes.

He skittered back a couple dozen meters. Staying in one place for too long was a very good way to get killed. Betvoss nearly tripped a second time over a grenade launcher. After a brief moment of thought, he picked it up. Whoever its previous owner was, he likely didn't need it anymore.

Betvoss fired at a group of big uglies who stayed too close together, sending the grenade right into the center of the group. Fortunately, even if he was a mere riflemen, he had received extensive training in all handheld weapons the Race used, and thus had little trouble operating the weapon. _I'd bet they'd never seen action before. _Betvoss thought. Experienced soldiers wouldn't have done anything so careless.

"By the emperor, how can we not be advancing on them?" Skyrim complained. Both sides had spread out to make killing each other in large numbers, but dozens of wounded males and burning vehicles meant that the Race was still suffering.

"Keep moving; don't let them know your location." Betvoss declared in lieu of responding. A shell impacted where they had been crouching not ten seconds prior. "If I'd been just a tiny fraction slower..." there was no need to complete the sentence.

"Thank the Emperor that we weren't." Skyrim gasped out, lowering his eyes. Betvoss very briefly did the same, hoping the gesture wouldn't cost him his life. They hid behind a tree, firing at whatever came their way.

Try as they might, though, they could not keep the group of Big Uglies from advancing and slowly fell back, with the remaining troopcarriers providing covering fire. Betvoss nailed another one right in the head, then flattened himself against the ground to provide as small a target as he could.

"I'm down to my last clip!" Skyrim complained. His head went up and his eye turrets spotted more Big Uglies coming from another direction. The instant he shouted a warning, two enemy bullets entered his skull, spraying Betvoss with blood and bone.

Betvoss hissed in horror, dropping his rifle and trembling. He could still feel the blood all over his scales and crumbled to the ground. Some males of the Race had heard the warning through their radios, but not enough. A series of grenades halted them, but he knew it was only temporary.

Betvoss eventually composed himself, promising to take the time to mourn later. He fired the last three grenades, and hastily moved away from the tree, finding better cover a dozen yards away. Absently, he wondered how the Big Uglies treated prisoners. _Hopefully, I won't have to find out by experiment. _He thought.

Bombs were beginning to hit their position. It took him a few moments to realize that the killercraft belonged to the Race, not the Big Uglies. Betvoss hissed in delight; the battle was on the verge of being lost before they arrived.

Race killercraft destroyed most of the Big Ugly landcruisers and troopcarriers immediately. A few Big Uglies were armed with handheld SAMs, but they were designed for hovering killercraft, not the fixed-air ones currently bombing them into oblivion. Elated by the news, Betvoss charged forward, emptying an entire clip in seconds.

The Big Uglies retreated in a matter of minutes, disappearing into the hills once more. Even then, some of them did not give up. Protecting the rest of their fellow Tosevites, a few dozen held the line and even took some Males of the Race with them before they were all injured or dead.

Once the rush of battle wore off, however, Betvoss realized just how high a price they had paid. Eight out of their eleven troopcarriers were destroyed or disabled and close to two hundred of their males were dead, including Skyrim.

About 100 wounded and surrendering Big Uglies were rounded up, while they decided what to do with them. Personally, Betvoss hoped he'd be allowed to blow their brains out, seeing that someone he considered a friend had been killed right in front of him. He clutched his weapon in a death grip, praying to the spirits of Emperors Past that he would be given the order.

Ultimately, though, they decided to take them prisoner. Considering how badly the group had been mangled, their original objectives had been terminated.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 4, 1982:

"Finally, a place where I can relax." Wuppah sighed as he exited his killercraft. Maintenance would make sure that the vehicle was fully fueled without any malfunctioning equipment before his next mission.

They were in an area where the Race had managed to take control, even though resistance was continuing. Wuppah kept his sidearm just in case he was forced to use it, although considering their security, it seemed extremely unlikely.

"We will have your killercraft ready for battle within two daytenths, superior sir." one of the mechanics informed him.

"Thank you; I expect it to be fully functional by that time." Wuppah made the affirmative hand gesture.

"Don't become too complacent; some of the Big Uglies working here are undoubtedly spying for the resistance." Hefron warned his fellow pilots.

"It shall be done," His subordinates replied, although Wuppah considered the warning to be pointless. Most males of the Race who had not learned to keep their guard up at all times were either dead or captured. It made him grateful that they were smart enough not to let the Tosevites working for them actually near the aircraft.

"Seems obvious enough to me," Nesser stated once their superiors were out of earshot. "Do they think we're completely addled enough that we're going to wander off on our own?"

"Sadly, I wouldn't doubt a few are, so our superior's concerns are justified." Atvar replied, defending them. "Intelligence indicates that at least some of the natives consider us to be preferable to their former masters."

"What is this miserable area called, anyway?" Wuppah wondered. He had been on so many missions all around Tosev 3 that they began to blur together.

"India, I believe." Atvar responded, spelling out the strange word slowly. In spite of the problems, all of them were relieved to be here. With Tosev 3's seasons changing for the worse, it was one of the few areas on the planet where they didn't have to bundle up to stay warm. Even so, it seemed kind of chilly to Wuppah.

"I'm going to say what they have for entertainment." Wuppah stated. "I will meet you back here for the next mission."

"What's to see?" Nesser shrugged. "These areas are barely fit for savages, much less properly civilized males."

"I'm not wandering far; just want to make sure I know my way around in case I get into trouble." Wuppah declared and walked off after exchanging good-byes with his flightmales.

He was abruptly stopped by a trio of males carry assault weapons, although he was able to pass through without problems when he revealed his identity card. Wuppah didn't understand why they asked it of males of the Race as well as the Big Uglies, but knew better than to question the arrangement.

"Be careful, pilot; we have had numerous incidents where a Big Ugly working for us opened fire on our males." One of the guard advised him. "No deaths so far, but there have been numerous injuries."

"Yesterday, one of the savages attempted to blow themselves up." The second guard added. "Praise the emperor that it was of primitive manufacture and failed to detonate." All of them lowered their eye turrets at the mention of the Emperor.

"Thank you for the warning," Wuppah nodded. The three of them still looked a little concerned, however, but waved him in.

_How could they possibly harm us here? _Wuppah wondered. He thought he would be able to relax in the comfort of their bases. Based on the guards he had just seen, however, he was beginning to think otherwise. He kept his personal weapon close.

He sat down in a chair and decided not to worry about it for a while. He had been flying far too many missions and needed the rest in order to fight optimally. Not many Big Uglies had been seen in the air lately, but their air defenses were still strong, in spite of how many had been obliterated.

The next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by one of the cooks. "Superior sir, I was ordered to tell you that you need to prepare for another mission once this planet's sun goes down." He handed Wuppah some food.

"Is this stuff safe to consume?" Wuppah wondered. He hadn't seen that kind of food before and looked at it with suspicion. To him, it didn't appear edible.

"It's already been tested and approved by our superiors." The cook responded. "If you're interested in anything else... I can give you this." He held out a small vial of a native substance.

"Thank you, cook; I am going to need the energy." Wuppah responded, tasting it cautiously. It wasn't bad, even though it wasn't salty enough to suit his body. No matter; he could get salt tablets at the desk if necessary.

"Do you want this as well?" the cook inquired. "I guarantee it'll be the best thing you've ever tasted in your life, by the emperor." Both lowered their eyes.

Wuppah reached his right claw out, then abruptly stopped, thinking it over. Ultimately, he grabbed, deciding that there was little harm in doing so. If he wanted to eat it at a later time, he could. "Thank you; I'm sure it is.", Wuppah pushed himself to his feet, gulping down his food in the process.

An alarm started blaring, and Wuppah hit the ground as soon as he could. Could the Big Uglies on this part of Tosev 3 still have the resources to launch an assault against their base, after all? He looked in every direction for possible attack, even though since he wasn't infantry, he didn't know precisely what to do.

In the distance, he heard their close weapons systems working furiously. Their antimissiles had run dry and captured Big ugly factories wouldn't turn any new ones out until in the first part of this planet's slow turns around its star. He silently wished them luck, wishing that he was still out in his killercraft. Inside his machine, he was still in danger, but still had some control over his fate. Here, he could only watch and hope he wasn't one of the casualties.

A surprising number were shot down, but far from all of them. Fortunately for Wuppah, none of them were in his vicinity. "Praise the emperor for that..." he lowered his eye turrets. He already came close to death once and had no wish to do so a second time.

However, these weren't typical bombs; he'd never seen their like before. Wuppah rushed over attempting to help a fallen comrade. He was no medic, but all males received medical training in preparation for their conquest. The male was badly burned, his scales a strange shade of yellow, and he seemed to have difficulty breathing as well.

As he got close, however, his next breath was nearly as painful as his broken arm was. _By the emperor!_. Still resolved to help his comrades, he closed his eyes, held his breath and dragged them out of harm's way. The wind was blowing the weapon away from them, for which he deeply thanked the emperor.

Once the attack was over, males saw to their wounded. Wuppah was once again forced to lay in a hospital bed as they studied him, trying to figure out how to cure him. From the sounds of it, it was a weapon that they had never heard of. _What... what is it?_ Wuppah wondered, beginning to dread the answer. It was agonizing to breathe, sending spikes of pain each time he did so.

After deciding that he wasn't in imminent danger of death, they rushed off to examine males that were far more worse than him. Wuppah carefully listened to the conversations surrounding him. From what he had gathered, casualties were minimal except in one building where the weapon dropped through the window. So far, no deaths, but based on the horror he was looking at, Wuppah thought that death might have been kinder to them.

They injected him with a serum designed to accelerate growth of new lung tissue. The burns inside weren't too severe and both the doctors monitoring him told him how lucky he was. _If this is good luck, I don't want to see the bad. _Wuppah thought. Fortunately, while their military technology was only moderately more advanced than the Tosevites', their medicine was far greater. Wuppah even had a few cloned organs in cold sleep in case they were permanently damaged in combat.

To his right, he saw Hefron hauled into the medical bay and Wuppah was open-mouthed in horror. Close to half his body was burned, the flesh burned almost down to the bone in some locations. He was on a respirator, with doctors giving him the serum in hopes of repairing his lung tissue. Unlike Wuppah, his lungs were too damaged to breathe on their own and his pained gasps echoed throughout the room.

Having little else to do, Wuppah ate the contents of the vial that he had been given earlier. A rush unlike any he had ever known filled his veins. He felt powerful, invincible. The Big Uglies were small, weak, easily overcome. Nothing they could do would even come close to harming him! In the back of his mind, he knew it wasn't true, but it was better than thinking about his fellow males around him gasping for breath.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 7, 1982:

Tosev 3's hologram currently held the attention of all of the assembled shiplords. Although tempted to show the warriors the probe had shown them 1,680 years ago, Atvar refrained. They could not dwell on might-have-beens at the moment. They needed to deal with the current situation.

Not that Atvar was particularly looking forward to it. A growing number of shiplords were becoming unhappy at the way the war was conducted. "We are here today, Shiplords, to evaluate and discuss the results of our current war of conquest." It had been 3/4 of a year since it began, half that if measured by Tosev 3's long years.

The hologram flickered into different colors. Red were areas that the Race currently controlled. "As you can see, we have consolidated control over the southern half of the main continental mass, which the natives refer to as Africa, although resistance efforts are continuing." They weren't a serious threat unlike the more technologically advanced areas of the world, but they had still lost some landcruisers and troop carriers. "Here, the weather works with us. Although humid, this area is still comfortable."

"And this area here... in the center of the main continental mass, is also falling to us, though resistance is considerably higher. The only empires still holding out against us are... Israel and Turkey. We have also had luck with assimilating some of the natives to our will. Much of it could even be called Home."

"What about the areas that continue to resist us?" Straha pushed. "Why have we been unable to defeat them?" Atvar hissed in displeasure. A growing number of Shiplords were becoming unhappy about the way the war was going and seemed to rally around Straha as their leader.

"There are multiple questions to that answer." Atvar replied, contempt oozing into his voice. "To our misfortune, our most formidable opponents are in the Northern Hemisphere. The weather is changing and not to our advantage, and thus our advance has been slowed, but not stopped. The Tosevites have been unable to stop us, except for a couple of localized counterattacks." Atvar was putting the best spin on the news that he could and all the assembled shiplords knew it.

Straha was not satisfied and stood up from his seat. "Even areas that you claim are under our control still teem with resistance. Our losses have been horrendous, with no end in sight. Why have we not put an end to it? Even worse, how have they managed to destroy our starships?"

"Their military technology is nearly as advanced as ours." Kirel reminded his rival. He pressed a couple buttons to activate a hologram on one of the Big Ugly tanks they had captured. "This is the most advanced tank that the natives have. If you would look at its specifications, it is dangerously close to being as advanced as our own. Fortunately, they do not very many of them and their air power is all but exterminated."

"Not only that, but the Tosevites have experience in real combat, not just simulations." Atvar reminded. "In both numbers and technology, we surpass them, but due to their experience, they have hurt us over and over again."

"We should use explosive metal bombs on the filthy Tosevites!" one of the assembled Shiplords declared, one of Straha's faction. "Show them the power of the Race!"

"The colonization fleet is behind us, in case you have forgotten." Atvar reminded. "They will not thank us for bringing them a contaminated world."

"What about the males fighting now?" Straha pointed out. "We have lost nearly half a million, which does not include the wounded or how much equipment has been destroyed. We must take more aggressive action if we are to secure our conquests. A few explosive metal bombs will allow us to regain the initiative and wage the war on our terms."

"Have you not forgotten that the Tosevites are likely to have them as well?" Kirel reminded. "We overran dozens of deactivated power plants that run on explosive material, indicating that they know how to produce it."

"There may be an alternate strategy." Atvar pointed out. "Intelligence has indicated that instead of hydrogen, most of their military equipment runs on hydrocarbons. The largest supplier appears to be the Middle East, which has already been conquered, but they have enough local supplies to keep their war machine running. Destroy these and they will grind to a halt. It will not matter how many they build if there is no fuel to drive them."

The shiplords muttered among themselves, some agreeing with the plan; others still wanted to use explosive metal bombs. Atvar was hoping that would be unnecessary. They had only 370, and reports from prisoners indicated that the United States and the Soviet Union had far more, although they had yet to use any.

"This may in principle help us with the goal on conquest." Straha replied with more respect than Atvar would have expected from him. "However, how can we be sure they will be enough to truly be effective? Combine this with other, more severe measures and we will be able to crush them completely."

Atvar wondered why the idea did not occur to him before. He was too used to judging the behavior and technology of the Tosevites with respect to the Race. The longer the war went on, the more they realized just how different the aliens really were. Neither Home, Halless 1 or Rabotev 2 ever had the enormous hydrocarbon reserves that Tosev 3 appeared to possess. "Yes, I will give orders to strike all known... to use their term for it, oil production plants."

"It shall be done," The Shiplords responded.

"What about the new weapons the surviving empires are deploying against us?" one of them asked, sounding more concerned than accusatory.

Atvar had seen the reports of what the weapon did, which was not pleasant. It appeared as if the first one had to be used by bombers, and most Tosevite planes had been destroyed. The second, on the other hand... the enemy still had plenty of artillery and many white phosphorus rounds. Once the Americans began using it, so did everyone still in the field against them.

"We are doing everything possible to eliminate their artillery and we have overrun several factories of the material which will allow us to respond in kind." Kirel stated, defending his fleetlord.

"Even if the war is not yet won, we can still be proud of the success we have so far." Atvar repeated. "As you know, we made conquering their industrial areas high priority and much of it is either controlled by us or in ruin. The Big Uglies can go on hurting us for a while. They have no hope of beating us."

"Destroy the most heavily defended cities with explosive-metal bombs and our job will become much easier." Straha continued to push, unwilling to give up. "I'm sure the exalted fleetlord can come up with a suitable number of targets."

Atvar was highly tempted to just do so. With the conquest becoming as costly as it was, explosive metal bombs were looking more and more appealing. If not for the colonization fleet, it was likely he would have already used them. The other complication was that their foes also possessed them, likely in greater numbers. "At the present time, no." He finally stated after a long moment of thought.

Straha glared furiously and for a few moments, it appeared as if he would try to overrule Atvar's decision. That would take 75% of the shiplords to do so, but it was possible. All eyes were on him to see what he would say next. "It shall be done, exalted fleetlord." His tone was all respect, but Atvar saw murder in his eyes.

"Now that the issue is settled, we will redouble our efforts to destroy their hydrocarbon supplies." Atvar declared. "I will be honest: the road ahead is likely to be long, and our struggle will be difficult, but we are the Race! We do not give up in the face of despair! We do not surrender in the face of difficulty! We will fight on, we will persevere and we will be victorious!"

"Exalted Fleetlord, I have news!" Pshing rushed into the room, looking to be on the verge of panic. It was considered greatly disrespectful to interrupt a shiplord's meeting except under extraordinary circumstances.

"What is it, Pshing?" Atvar wondered what calamity had happened now.

"The first part of the news is that India is now using a new and until not unknown form of warfare against us." Pshing gulped. "The Big Uglies of that region are beginning to launch chemical weapons against us. There have been few deaths, but over a hundred injuries, many of them severe."

"Have our researchers devise countermeasures as quickly as possible." Atvar responded. He would give more detailed orders once the meeting was over. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, Exalted Fleetlord." Pshing gulped. "Our spearhead into Paris has been destroyed by... explosive-metal bombs. Five were launched in our direction; three were intercepted, but the remaining two penetrated our defenses. Close to 100,000 males have been lost."

Atvar had a difficult time keeping his feet at that news. 100,000 males? If the Big Uglies had decided to use nuclear weapons against them, the war had just gotten a lot worse. He knew it was likely that they hadn't destroyed all of them, but knowing it in the abstract was different than seeing it with his own eye turrets. "Have we identified the launch site?" He forced himself to ask.

"Our satellite caught a brief glimpse of it." Pshing declared. Atvar looked at the photo; it was three hundred Tlocks away from the coast of France, one of the Big Uglies' underwater boats. "We sent killercraft to intercept it, but it was long gone by the time they reached the location."

"What now, Exalted Fleetlord?" Kirel asked. Atvar wished he had a good answer for that.


	9. Chapter 9

Well, I am now officially 25 years old. Hard to believe how quickly time can pass if you're not paying attention. 

XXXXXXXXXX

Atvar was silent for several minutes as he pondered what to do. If the Big Uglies were resorting to explosive-metal bombs, this war had just gotten much more difficult. More than ever, he wished the probe had accurately reported their technology level. Were that the case, the conquest would have been long over.

The current meeting had been temporarily halted as Atvar received all of the intelligence report from the explosive metal bombs that the Tosevites had just used. An offensive into France was now going to be much more difficult, not to mention realizing that the Race had not succeeded in destroying all their explosive metal bombs after all.

He had ordered intelligence to gather information as quickly as possible, far faster than would normally be considered proper. Atvar understood that the likely consequence of that was their intelligence would be incomplete, but he had now learned the hard way that they could not simply dither when fighting the Big Uglies. They had to act and act quickly.

It was close to half a day until he was even remotely satisfied with what they had organized, using both new intelligent and what they had gathered since the conquest began.

Reluctantly, he called another meeting in order to discuss a plan of action on the newest developments. _And how many others does France have... and the other not-empires, for that matter? _Atvar asked himself, not liking the answers.

His eye turrets scanned the assembly of shiplords and he knew that despite his massive shock, he still had a duty to the Race. Regaining his composure, he stated: "As you know, the Big Uglies annihilated many of our forces that were marching towards Paris. Our losses are considerable, in both males and equipment."

"I thought the Big Uglies had been completely disarmed of explosive-metal bombs." Straha declared. "How did our intelligence miss this?"

Atvar waited another few moments to respond. Instead, he put up a hologram of the photos one of their killercraft had taken of the launch site. "The missiles were launched from one of their underwater boats. While we destroyed their land-based missiles, we failed to take into account their sea-based capability."

"Why would even the Big Uglies be mad enough to put explosive-metal bombs on underwater boats?" Ffrenp asked, a shiplord that had not yet joined either Atvar or Straha's faction.

"Intelligence indicates that this is a part of what the Big Uglies were calling the 'Cold War' between the not-empires of the U.S. and the USSR." Atvar explained. "Each side feared that the other would launch a pre-emptive strike and succeed in destroying their land-based weapons before the other could retaliate. Therefore, they came up with what they refer to as a second strike capability, a way to cause devastating damage on the other even if their land missiles were obliterated."

"So why didn't we make a larger effort against the ships in their oceans... exalted fleetlord?" Straha demanded, adding the honorific at the last moment. Even some of his faction bristled at the implied disrespect.

"Shiplord, you forget yourself." Kirel glared at him. "We have many enemy positions to destroy; despite our superior technology, we cannot be everywhere at once."

"Why were we not given more males and equipment before attempting to conquer and industrialized world?" A Shiplord of Straha's faction complained.

"This is the foe we were expecting to face, or have you forgotten?" Atvar snapped, bringing up the images of the probe they had sent to Tosev 3. "Do you think we could have succeed with this level of opposition?" Everyone around him knew the answer to that.

"The Big Uglies are progressing entirely too rapidly." Straha sighed. "Even beside the two explosive-metal bombs, there are reports of killercraft that are nearly invisible to us, destroying our equipment on the ground before we can use it."

Atvar had heard of several different strikes in that regard. "We are doing everything we can to correct that problem, Shiplord." He reminded him rival. "At least we can focus our efforts on the United States, the only not-empire who appears to have this technology." _At least for now, _Atvar thought. He had no doubt that the other not-empires were working on similar designs. "We have great difficulties at the moment, the chief one being the destruction of our forces in France." The yield of the two weapons that hit were six times greater than the Race's strategic weapons, and landed right where their males were most concentrated.

"We cannot allow them to attack us unpunished!" One of the shiplords exclaimed. "Destroy the entire not-empire as a message to the others!"

"And reduce the value of Tosev 3 to the colonization fleet?" A detractor pointed out.

"Exalted Fleetlord, we have more than enough weapons to destroy all the major population centers in the part of France we have not yet conquered." Straha pointed out. "Make an example out of them, and we'll discourage the other not-empires from doing the same."

"Have you taken into account the fact that they may have more such weapons laying in reserve?" Kirel declared. "We have had no success as of yet tracking these boats down. If we use explosive-metal bombs so indiscriminately, they will use everything they have to harm our males."

"And if we do not respond, we send a weakness to the other Big Uglies!" Straha shouted.

"Straha is correct... we cannot let such an act go unanswered." Atvar eventually spoke. He preened at the other shiplords. "At the same time, we cannot use our weapons without caution. Kirel is correct; they likely have others left unused. In addition, we only have a limited supply of explosive metal bombs ourselves, so we cannot throw them with reckless abandon."

In the end, it was decided to use 2 strategic warheads against Paris (200 kilotons) and 3 tactical warheads (20KT) against their military fortifications throughout the nation, two of which were surrounded by territory the Race had already taken. Their garrisons were costly to remove through normal means, making them ideal for nuclear intervention.

Atvar only hoped that this would be the last time he would be forced to use them.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 20, 1982:

_Sometimes, I think I'm going to go insane in here. _Alexis thought as he paced around the subway, at least as best he could. Since Paris didn't have enough fallout shelters to protect everyone, they decided to use the subway as a makeshift shelter. If he remembered his history correctly, there was someone in Hiroshima who survived just 150 meters away from ground zero in a concrete building.

Even so, he was luckier than many. Alexis was already underground when the bomb detonated over Paris. The first was intercepted and destroyed, but the second got through, destroying much of the city and killing an unknown number of people, but it was likely to be in the hundreds of thousands. Paris was among the densest cities in the world.

He was far from the only one. Throughout the underground tunnels, they existed countless people, soldiers and civilians alike. They had been cut off from any news about the outside and nobody dared venture out for dear of dying from radiation poisoning. They had all lived with the possibility that the world would end in nuclear fire, so some had made preparations, but in many cases, it hadn't helped them any.

Alexis had cheered when he saw the two nuclear weapons go off in the distance, killing a good portion of the lizards marching to the capital. They were ready to fight for the city tooth and nail, but evidently, his superiors had other ideas to confront them. Unfortunately, there were also severe consequences of doing so.

He had been about three kilometers away from ground zero when the bomb detonated, a range that would surely have killed had he been caught out in the open. Alexis had yet to hear any news about his fellow soldiers, however. The ones in his vicinity were individuals he had never met.

_I'm still luckier than many, _Alexis reminded himself. He was still alive and not suffering from radiation poisoning. At the same time, he couldn't relax. His parents were living in territory occupied by the lizards, and he had not heard from them for months. For that matter, they may very well have thought that he was dead.

A cough made him jump at attention. Not everyone had managed to get out in time. There had been either brave or insane volunteers to go outside with whatever protection they were able to scrounge together and look for other survivors. Some had been located, quite a few more than Alexis had originally thought possible. Not all of them were dying, either. Some were in decent shape, at least for the time being.

Alexis ate part of his daily ration, having little else to do at the current time. The lights were dim, but they were bright enough to where he could at least mostly know where he was going. "So how long are we stuck down here?" He heard one of the civilians ask.

"I don't know; aren't these things supposed to last for thousands of years?" A woman worried. "We could be stuck down here forever!"

"It's the end of the world!" A third screamed.

"We're fine as long as we stick together and don't panic!" One of the soldiers interrupted immediately. Alexis was well aware that panic could be just as fatal as the radiation itself and could rapidly grow out of control if not quelled quickly. "We've got food, we've got water, so let's wait it out until help arrives, ok?!"

He personally wasn't sure it would, but it seemed to calm down the fearful group. Not all of them were civilians, either. Some of the soldiers were only barely keeping their composure. Alexis could hear tears coming from some of the people around him, although it was too dark for him to be able to see exactly who it was. This was far from an ideal shelter, but was evidently sufficient to keep them alive. Alexis let loose a small tremble at the idea of being stuck indefinitely. He had been claustrophobic as a child and even now, dark, small spaces made him nervous.

Absently, he wondered what emergency services could do for them. _Assuming there's anything left... _Alexis wished he hadn't had that thought. Last he heard, multiple thermonuclear bombs were launched at France, but he knew nothing else. In the forefront of his mind, there was the fear that his beloved country had been wiped out in a sea of mushroom clouds, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was far from the only one.

None of them knew how much time passed; it could have been minutes, hours, days. The makeshift group gathered a few more volunteers to go to the surface in order to find survivors. It had been over two weeks since the bombs were dropped and it was hoped that the radiation was such that it was not instantly lethal. On a personal level, Alexis believed that they already located as many people as they could, but could help but admire their bravery nonetheless. He was a soldier, a veteran and had been in combat almost from the time the invasion started, but he could not find courage anymore.

He wasn't about to voice his opinion, however. It was a noble gesture, even if it seemed futile to him, and in fact they had rescued numerous people. "How are any of the buildings still standing?" He heard a man inquire near him, speaking in a low tone. "My brother went out there, and he had there's still plenty of standing buildings and people taking shelter in the basements."

"I have no goddamn idea." A woman, whom Alexis assumed was his wife or girlfriend, responded. "All I know is I'm sick of this place, and all those fucking lizards! Why the hell did they launch that bomb in the first place?"

_Because otherwise Paris would belong to the lizards, you stupid bitch. _Alexis mentally snarled, but his irritation faded. Everyone was on edge, and he was having a noticeably difficult time controlling his temper as well. For all he knew, she could be dealing with the deaths of loved ones as well.

From what he remembered of his nuclear survival training, it was most dangerous during the first 48 hours and that nobody should go outside for any reason at all, no matter how brief it might be. Alexis was unsure of the process after that, but if venturing outside was necessary, wrapping yourself in thick layers of clothing was recommended.

"This may not even be the last bomb," Alexis whispered, hoping nobody else heard him. There were two bombs launched towards Paris, not one, even if the first was intercepted. He had no idea how many bombs the lizards had or how many they had used. More could be on their way, and he doubted that even underground, they could survive if they were at ground zero.

Wanting something to do, he got to his feet and looked over all the occupants. Alexis had already administered first aid to a few of them, but some of them were suffering just as much from psychological effects. A couple could be heard in the distance with nightmares, thrashing about in all directions.

He hoped that he would have news soon about the soldiers he was serving with, even if it was currently unlikely. Alexis hadn't necessarily liked all of them, but they were protecting France, just as he was, not to mention the multiple occasion where they saved his life. They had gotten separated when they learned an air raid was imminent.

_Ok, we've got enough food to last us for approximately three weeks, assuming we're careful. _Alexis thought things over carefully. Water would last them about a month. Open water was likely to be contaminated; underground and concealed sources would be a much better bet. "So nothing from the river..." Alexis muttered.

Nevertheless, he was beginning to think that they would survive this after all.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 25, 1982:

"So why exactly did they send us outside of the city?" Thomas wondered as they marched through the forests. It wasn't completely unpopulated, but they were far from the center of the city, and their groups had not seen another human being for over a week.

"How the hell would I know?" Melanie groaned, her feet aching with every step. None of the previous civilians had gotten a lot of endurance training. Hell, they barely received any training at all. They were drilled as much as possible for three weeks and then sent outside of the city while the soldiers fought as hard as they could to keep the lizards out of it.

"Would you rather be in the city right now?" Asked Corporal James Garland, a Canadian. Most of the soldiers escorting the half-trained, poorly-equipped civilians were Canadian in an effort for the U.S. to free more of their own men for the coming fight. Their group had around two hundred people in it, a mixture of soldiers and civilians. Even from here, they could hear the artillery shells impacting on their home.

"Okay, point taken." Thomas admitted. "Still, my feet are killing me. If I haven't lost ten pounds, it'd be a miracle."

"Will you shut up?" Melanie snapped at him. "None of us are doing any better!" As soon as she screamed at him, she felt remorse. All of their tempers were on edge, not only because of the enormous danger they were in, but because their city was being bombed back to the stone age.

"Spread out, damn it!" They were ordered. "You want those goddamn lizards to kill you all at once?" The soldiers did so automatically when they were traveling, while the others tended to bunch together. Melanie knew it was right; they'd be easy prey for any passing lizard aircraft. Unfortunately, they just didn't instinctually knew where the best concealment and cover was. None of them had actually been in combat yet, but she knew that it was likely going to be only a matter of time.

"Reminds me of when I was a little kid; played out here all the time." Katherine mused. Unlike Melanie and her brother, she was actually kind of enjoying herself, with an M-16 on her shoulder. "Played hide and seek with Uncle James and Aunt Lizbeth. Come on, Melanie, you remember."

"I also remember you got lost and cried for three hours before we could find you." Melanie reminded.

"No, I didn't!" Katherine protested. "I was just playing a game, and managed to stay hidden from you for three hours. See?" She walked quieter than Melanie. While Melanie did her best, it was almost like she deliberately crushed every branch she came across. Thomas was a lot heavier and had an even harder time. Now that the leaves had changed and were starting to fall, they were practically putting up a "shoot me right here" sign.

Fortunately, the strong wind helped with concealing their noise. Melanie briefly stopped and put on her jacket, since her shivering was beginning to get out of control. She felt better afterwards, but was still a little chilly. Another month or so, she'd have to wear her coat as well.

"Why is it so damn cold?" One of them complained. Melanie looked over and saw a middle-aged man shivering. Personally, she thought he was too old to fight, but they needed everyone they could get their hands on. "It's never like this in the city."

"Actually, there would be two reasons for that." Thomas responded. "The first is because of the wind chill factor, even though it's actually slightly warmer than normal. The second is the Urban Heat Island effect. All the concrete and asphalt absorbs all the sunlight, and..." He went on for the next couple of minutes explaining the process.

Instead of responding, the man made a point to get as far away from him as possible. Melanie had seen that many times before; her brother answering a rhetorical question.

"Ok, halt." the First Lieutenant ordered; Melanie had yet to learn his name, but he didn't look any older than she was. There were visible sighs of relief as they sat down while trying to conceal themselves from the enemy to the best of their ability.

"Quite an adventure, isn't it?" Thomas gave an ironic laugh. "Still, it's probably better here than in the cities." He pulled out an MRE. "Would you like a Meal Rejected by the Enemy?"

"No, I'd like a Meal, Rarely Edible." Melanie laughed. Both of them had been listening to the nicknames that the soldiers had been giving the rations. Nevertheless, she opened one of them and began to gulp down the ham inside. She intended on regaining as much energy as she could before she got moving again. "What are you doing? You can eat now, you know."

"Trying to keep an eye out for the enemy," Thomas responded, looking up at the sky and through the forest. "Their vehicles are quiet as hell, much more than ours, so they can sneak up on us if we're not careful." He was right, but Melanie had been too exhausted to think about it. The instant he mentioned it, she began to look around, subconsciously putting herself into a smaller corner to minimize the target.

"Wish I'd thought of it," Melanie admitted. "And I don't even know the signs that the enemy is nearby."

"None of us do, not really." Thomas sighed. "On the bright side, if I somehow manage to get out of this alive, I'll be in shape for the first time in years." He moved away from Melanie by around a dozen feet. "I'm a bigger target than you, so if I get it, I don't want anything happening to you as well."

Melanie sighed sadly, continuing to eat so she didn't have to think about what came next. Even if they had not yet been in combat, the odds were good that they would be soon. Would she even be able to fight? Could she point her weapon at another living thing with the intent of murder? _I'll find out soon enough, _Melanie thought. She'd been in her share of fights, but never had they had the slightest chance of turning deadly.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to notice someone coming up from behind her until it was too late. She was pinned to the ground and grabbed her weapon before she realized who it was. "Katherine, you bitch, I nearly shot you!" Melanie exclaimed, still taking deep breaths. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"You should have seen your face," Katherine giggled.

"Don't do that again, all right?" Melanie groaned, throwing a mock punch at her.

Suddenly, one of the soldiers ran into the camp, screaming: "The lizards are coming this way! Spread out, stay down, and be quiet!" There was a marked difference between the trained soldiers and conscripts. Melanie gave Thomas a hand up, knowing that while he was strong, he didn't move very quickly.

The three of them hid themselves in the leaves and branched, about 100 yards next to the road. Most of the roads into Cleveland had been wrecked in order to slow the lizards down, but Highway 322 was still intact, even if it was covered in leaves. So far, however, they had seen no sign of the enemy, and Melanie would have been happy to keep it that way.

"I can't see a damn thing out of these." Thomas complained, handing the binoculars to Katherine. "Can you see anything?"

"Hold on, let me see." Katherine muttered, adjusting the binoculars, moving closer to get a better look. She was only about ten yards away from the road when she sprinted back, on the edge of panic. "They're here! They're coming!" She managed to gasp out before concealing herself and attaching an M203 grenade launcher to her weapon.

"They gave you a grenade launcher?" Thomas asked in astonishment. Melanie elbowed him in the ribs to get him to shut up. They gradually moved forward, hoping they wouldn't be slaughtered before they had a chance to strike. None of them were sure just how concealed they really were, however.

When they were about 200 yards away, a pair of anti-tank missiles were launched, wrecking the lead vehicle. The lizards that survived the direct attack ran for cover, although only a single individual made it; the rest were either wounded or dead. A second armored personnel carrier was wrecked in the exact same fashion as the first, although this time, there were no fatalities among them. Melanie mentally cheered; perhaps they could survive this after all.

They weren't asleep forever, though, and redeployed to meet the new threat. Fortunately, they had no tanks or else the group would have no chance whatsoever. Just as the Americans and Canadians did, the lizards ducked for cover and hid themselves in the grass and leaves. Indeed, they had slightly better luck because their skin color offered better concealment.

Melanie gulped, sweat pouring down her forehead even though it was barely forty degrees out. She was only barely able to keep hold of the weapon. Thomas fired a few shots in their direction, although it was highly doubtful that he hit anything. "Come on, Melanie, do something!" Katherine cursed at her. The lizards slowly moved into the forest, spreading into two smaller groups in order to avoid being surrounded.

Reluctantly, she opened fire on where she thought the lizards were coming from. Almost no one could actually see anything because of the forest, but they worked in their favor, since the lizards had superior firepower. She crawled on her belly for a few feet, slithering through the dirt. Katherine was on her right, while Thomas was eight feet behind her, making sure they weren't ambushed from behind.

Melanie's ears were ringing even with her ear protectors on. None of them could see a single living soul through the foliage, human or lizard. Cries here and there informed them that some members of the group were not going to make it through the firefight. Machine gun fire was everywhere, on both sides, though it seemed to her untrained ears that the American/Canadian group had a slight advantage.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Thomas complained, but neither of them could hear him through all the noise. Melanie moved towards it, even though her whole body was turning to jelly. She took a few more deep breaths and tightened her grip on the rifle.

_ Please, god, let me live through this. _Melanie begged, trying not to cry; tears would only obstruct her vision further. She was now moving so slowly, a turtle could have outpaced her. She took more deep breaths, bracing herself for the inevitable.

They moved much more quickly when an artillery shell exploded in their vicinity. They pushed themselves up and ran for it, not wanting to stay in the line of fire. The couple extra seconds it took for them to move nearly cost them their lives.

The fighting was gradually dying down, and from her admittedly limited perspective, it appeared as if the humans were losing. "Down!" Katherine whispered, practically shoving them into a pile of leaves. Melanie soon saw why as a lizard vehicle drove up, less than twenty meters than where they hid. She hardly dared to breathe. If they were spotted, they were dead, plain and simple.

Their turret went back an both, containing four rockets that would ensure that what remained of them could be buried in a thimble. Half a dozen lizards surrounded it as well, easy targets if they were inclined to shoot, which none of them were. Melanie knew that would be suicide, even if they could take a couple of them with them.

_Maybe we should fire, even if it costs us our lives. _Melanie thought. She saw her brother making the same conclusion, while Katherine readied another grenade. Behind them, around fifty yards, existed another group of males for fire support. They had learned better than to let small groups wander off on their own without support.

Melanie resolved not to go down without a fight, but hoped she wouldn't be forced to do so. She hid her face, shoving it against the ground, although her eyes still looked at the vehicle that the lizards had parked. _Come on, leave already! _Melanie glared at them through her concealment. Each moment dragged on and on and on, heightening the risk that they would be spotted and killed.

"Would we even be allowed to surrender?" Melanie mouthed silently. She considered the possibility, but if even they did, the three of them popping up suddenly was likely to meet with a lethal response.

Gradually, they moved away, but even so, none of them dared to move. It was quite possible that they would turn around and if they were caught out in the open, nothing would have saved them. They were still within range of her M-16, but slowly, they were moving out of sight.

It was a good twenty minutes before the trio got out of their hiding places, and even then, they stayed next to a tree in order to reduce visibility. Thomas and Katherine were both visibly shuddering. "I didn't think we were going to get out of that." Katherine admitted. "I just closed my eyes and prayed."

"I thought about firing on them, but ultimately, I just couldn't do it." Thomas bowed his head, ashamed of his perceived weakness. "If I was by myself, maybe I... but I couldn't risk your life as well, sis. I'd never be able to live with that if I ended up getting you killed."

"Maybe our instructor had a point after all." Melanie admitted. Under normal circumstances, she would never have been paired with her brother, but since they were in a difficult fight with the lizards advancing on every front, they didn't have the time to worry about regulations, even if their disapproval was obvious. Now Melanie was beginning to realize that those rules were there for a reason. She might have fired at them had she been alone or with fellow soldiers that she didn't know. Yes, Melanie knew she would have likely died, but at that range, she could have taken 3-4 lizards with her, something that would have assisted in the war effort. The Americans could replace their losses more easily than they could.

"We're just going to have to make the best of it." Thomas declared. "We're still alive, unwounded, so that's something. I'm going to see if we can find any of the others; what do you think?"

"We all got separated, but there's strength in numbers." Melanie agreed. "Be damn careful, though. Some of the lizards may be out here."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Katherine agreed, beginning to mentally recover from their ordeal.

"Hard as it is to believe, that whole fight only took five minutes." Thomas stated, pointing to his watch.

"Five minutes?!" Melanie gasped. "It had to have been longer than that!"

"Nope, not according to my watch and not counting us waiting to see if the lizards would butcher us." Thomas shook his head. Impossible as it seemed, her brother usually knew what he was talking about.

They wandered the area, jumping at the slightest sound of an animal or simply their own feet stepping on the leaves. Melanie saw a few lizard bodies along with members of their own group. _Good to know it wasn't completely one-sided. _A couple dozen yards away was one of their vehicles, currently burning. Melanie got a whiff of burning flesh and nearly emptied the contents of her stomach.

"I hope I've got a change of clothes." Katherine and Thomas said at the same time.

"Why?" Melanie asked, knowing that what they were wearing was the only pair they had. Their packs had been lost at the beginning of the battle. They exchanged embarrassed glances, neither one willing to speak out.

"Well, I shit myself; expect she did too." Thomas sighed.

"That's what you're so embarrassed about?" Melanie rolled her eyes. "We've got far bigger problems at the moment. If it's so terrible, clean yourselves up and let's move on. We can't exactly linger around, you know." A slight moan interrupted their bickering. All of them took out their weapons and looked around nervously. Had they been veterans, they would have flattened themselves on the ground.

When they heard the moan again, they realized that it was human. Near one of the bushes, Melanie spotted a man who was formerly operating a machine gun. The instant she spotted him, she knew he wasn't going to make it. In a hospital, they could save him, but out here with no medical services... he had been shot at least three times, one in the leg, twice in the chest. Melanie saw he was bleeding out and going into shock, but was unable to do anything but stare in horror.

"My god... that could have easily been us." Katherine spoke their thoughts out loud. The instant she thought it, though, Melanie felt incredibly selfish. They were staring at a dying man and the first thing that came to her mind was how glad she was that it wasn't her?!

His mouth began moving, but none of them could make out what he was saying. Finally, Thomas leaned next to him and translated for the others: "He want us to shoot him." His mouth continued to move, his voice barely audible, but Melanie could just make out... "Kill me... please."

_God, please don't let this be real! _Melanie pleaded. Wishes did as much good as they always did. Killing someone trying to do the same to her was difficult enough. Shooting someone in cold blood, someone who was a laughing, talking member of their group not two hours ago... she cried a single tear at the thought.

On the other hand, the alternative was to simply let him die there. There was no saving, not now, and he could be there for hours, possibly days, before it was finally over. Ultimately, Katherine was the one who fired the fatal shot, sending the bullet directly into his head. His gasps and moans mercifully stopped, but there was now a strong melancholy among them now.

Thomas got to his knees and started fishing through the now dead soldier's backpack, grabbing rations and bullets and handing them out. Once that was completed, he picked up the light machine gun, although not without some difficulty with the soldier's pack on him as well. "Can one of you get some of the ammunition?" He requested. "My hands are a bit full here."

"Do we really need that thing?" Melanie asked.

"Might make some of the lizards think twice," Katherine reminded, wrapping the ammunition belts around her neck. "Whoever's left is probably scattered everywhere. The question is: do we hunt them down or try fighting by ourselves?"

"There's strength in numbers," Thomas agreed. "It'll be difficult, but we need to join up, if not with our old group, with others who are still fighting. What else can we do?"

"That's going to be tricky; we could end up dead by mistake." Melanie reminded. On the other hand, all of them knew the risks involved. If they could get to someone, find a place to seek shelter... the food they had with them was only enough for about a week, and none of them had much clue about how to survive in the wild. Their water would last only slightly later, though that was less of a problem since they had a purification system.

"We could try going to the nearest town, stock up before we reunite with the army." Thomas suggested.

"Every town around Cleveland is occupied by those lizards; you have any ideas about how to sneak in without anybody noticing us?" Katherine reminded her.

"Yeah, you got me there." Thomas admitted. "There's a town a few miles southeast, but..." He dropped the machine gun and took out a map, trying to figure out their exact location. "Middlefield's about five miles southeast of us. But you're right; the lizards likely already hold that place."

"So what exactly do we know about surviving in the wild?" Melanie asked. The answer for her was nothing. Katherine knew a little from some old wilderness survival classes, but that still left them in an unenviable position.

"I can make a few simple snares." Katherine offered. "That should help us with the food situation."

"What about shelter?" Thomas wondered. All of them were realizing that going to the towns was likely a bad idea. Cleveland, by all accounts, was completely surrounded and none of them wanted to find out what the lizards would do to them if they were caught.

It took them most of the day, but eventually, they managed to build a crude teepee big enough for all of them to sleep inside. Thomas pulled out a plastic sheet and stuck it on four sticks, putting a pot in the center of it to catch water from the morning dew. All three heard a couple incidents of gunfire, but none of them wanted to find out whether those were their own people or the aliens.

"You know, they're not nearly as advanced as you'd think." Thomas chuckled as the latest round of fighting died down. It was now pitch black, but he and Melanie were wide awake despite their exhausted. Katherine had somehow managed to fall asleep. "I keep expecting them to have a bunch of laser guns and flying saucers, but their weapons don't look too different than ours."

"I'm more worried about other things, like how the hell we're going to get out of here alive." Melanie sighed, trying to get to sleep, but failing. She shivered, even inside the shelter. It was better than nothing, but it didn't do much. They'd have to work on improving it tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 26, 1982:

"So does this mean I'm cleared to go back into action, superior sir?" Wuppah asked, knowing that the situation was much less optimistic than the broadcasts were reporting and wanted to assist the Race in any way he could. It took them a year-tenth before he healed enough for them to let him out of the hospital and more time to figure out what to do with him. Had he been forced to use Big Ugly medicine, the gas in his eyes would have blinded him. His unit had been disbanded and ordered to report to new squadrons that had lost members.

"Yes, just as soon as one final medical check is reported." The local killercraft commander informed him. "As of yet, we do not know what long term effects the gas will have."

"Do you know how long it will be, superior sir?" Wuppah asked, trying to hold in his temper. He was finding it far more difficult to control himself ever since he had tried that herb the cook at his old case had given him. He still had a few vials of it, trying to make it last as long as he could being that as of yet, he had no way to get more. Wuppah didn't even know what it was called, but it helped him get through the long recovery.

"One day and two tenths of a day before you are fully cleared." The commander informed him. "However, I believe you will be; this is merely a precaution. Dismissed, pilot Wuppah." Wuppah bent into the posture of respect once more and headed off to the medical bay once again, hoping this would soon be over.

The procedure, while unpleasant, was not nearly as bad as Wuppah expected. In the end, the doctor declared that he was in good health and combat-ready, something that greatly relieved him.

_But will I have a killercraft of my own? _Wuppah wondered. There were 3 pilots for one killercraft, to allow them to establish air superiority at all times while giving the pilots much needed rest from their missions. The ratio was likely higher now that close to 1,800 of them, nearly a tenth of their total arsenal, had been shot down and destroyed by the Big Uglies. Their losses were a lot worse, but as time went on, they would be able to manufacture more. Therefore, it was necessary to conquer them before they could bring their industrial advantage to bear. Their hovering killercraft had suffered even greater losses in terms of percentage.

Still, now that he had been cleared, he would be able to find out soon enough. "Strange to see new faces..." He muttered. He was used to spending time with and fighting alongside his squadmates and now he would be the stranger to whatever squadron he had been assigned to.

Once the sun set on Tosev 3, he had been ordered to his new killercraft. His superiors had assigned him to night flying instead of day as he was before. "I greet you, superior sir." He told his commander, whose name he had seen realized was Chook.

"I greet you, killercraft pilot." Chook made the affirmative hand gesture. "And there are your fellow pilots, Rongo, Ristin, and Dresn."

"I greet you, pilot." All of them said at the same time before climbing into their killercraft. Wuppah checked around, making sure everything was exactly the same as it was in his previous one. There was no reason for him to think otherwise, but he did so anyway. It had been close to two year-tenths since he had last flown a combat mission and he wanted to be ready.

The killercraft took off, rapidly gaining altitude. Wuppah hoped that the Big Uglies had not succeeded in sneaking SAMs near their base; there had already been a few cases of it happening, with tragic results, but this time, taking off went completely smoothly.

"So what is our target, superior sir?" Wuppah asked. So far in the war, he first served in the USSR, then Europe, India, and China. The latter two was pretty easy duty. While they had killercraft, they were few and primitive, no match for what the Race would yield. Less than 10 percent of their killercraft losses had been from that region, compared to 36 percent for the United States and 29 percent in the USSR.

"Our satellites have detected another missile silo that intelligence believes contains explosive-metal bombs." Chook informed him. "After the disaster in France, we cannot let such a thing happen again." All of them shuddered when they thought of all the males lost in the attack.

The Big Uglies had not left the place undefended. While no killercraft were in the area, they had dozen of surface-to-air launched placed all around the silos. "Any killercraft headed our way?" Rongo inquired.

"Nope, not on my radar." Wuppah replied, for which he was grateful. The launchers were enough trouble in and of themselves. The 120 killercraft sent on the mission were fully armed, even though precision-guided weapons were being conserved to a greater and greater degree. He himself had three missiles designed to destroy underground targets.

Even at the range of 30 Tlocks, some of the launchers were already firing missiles in their direction, then moved to make it more difficult for them to be hunted down. One killercraft was shot down within moments, the pilot having no chance to bail out before it was destroyed. Wuppah only hoped his death was quick. _He rests with the emperors now, _He thought.

Several of the launchers were destroyed, but their mobility made it difficult to do so. Wuppah used two air-to-ground missiles to wipe one of them out of existence after it came all too close to shooting him down. He had been forced to eject once and knew how lucky he was that he had survived; he didn't want to be forced to go through it a second time.

Their bombers were more vulnerable targets and as they neared their target, more launchers opened up, taking one of them out. Wuppah cursed, as they were carrying most of the underground bombs; what the Big Uglies referred to as bunker busters, although their versions were less effective.

"Where are their killercraft?" Ristin wondered. "You'd think with such an important target, they'd have heavier defenses."

"I don't know, but I'm glad we haven't seen any." Dresn replied, checking his radar every couple of seconds. If they did send any killercraft, the Race pilots would have more than adequate time to redeploy and kill them.

"Strange; the Big Uglies are usually not this addled." Chook agreed. "They are savages, yes, but not fools." The bomber wave dropped their underground bombs on the silos, hopefully wiping out the rapidly depleting stocks of explosive-metal weapons that the Tosevites possessed. Just a few of them had done dreadful damage to the Race. If they didn't wipe them out, the conquest was likely to fail.

Wuppah dropped the three bombs he possessed, wanting to make very sure that the targets were destroyed. Their underground bombs could destroy targets at depths of five meters of concrete and thirty meters of terrestrial material. "Let's see them try and use this location now!" He cheered.

As a matter of fact, few of his missions had been so simple an easy. True, they had lost nine killercraft, and the surviving pilots would have to be rescued, but with such a vital site, Wuppah expected the losses to be much higher. _Bit by bit, we're defeating the Big Uglies. _Wuppah's mouth hung open in laughter. He hadn't felt such jubilation since his last taste of... whatever the herb was called.

The pilots landed, one by one, still wary of any sneak attack the USSR might try. If they wanted to cause damage, attacking when their killercraft were landing was the perfect time to do so, but no, there was nothing on the radar that indicated an enemy.

"They'll never be able to use those silos again!" Ristin cheered. All their spirits were high at the successful mission.

"No enemy killercraft, their missile launchers destroyed, and their explosive-metal bombs wiped out!" Dresn exclaimed. "That is why we are the superior species!" That was of course ignoring the eight killercraft that were lost. Even if it was lower than some sorties, it was still equipment and ordnance they couldn't replace. If Wuppah didn't know better, he'd swear that Dresn was using the same herb as he was.

They spent the rest of the night on patrol, bombing a few Big Ugly groups from the air, but aside from that, it was a routine flight. Wuppah gave the USSR reluctant credit; despite their weakened position, they were still fighting hard and inflicting casualties on them.

By the time he returned, Wuppah was so tired that he was close to falling unconscious the minute his feet hit the ground. Ristin had indeed fallen asleep for a few moments standing up before Chook grabbed his shoulder in order to wake him. He headed to his new bunk and sat down, his eyes drooping rapidly.

"A great raid, a great raid." Dresn hissed. He was the only one of their squadron wide awake, something that struck Wuppah as most unusual. As the others were asleep, Dresn leaned towards him and whispered: "There's something I have that'll make this miserable iceball a lot more pleasant if you're interested."

"What are you referring to?" Wuppah asked, but believed that he knew the answer.

"The natives have something called ginger; best experience you'll ever have in your life." Dresn insisted, showing him a small vial. "Want a taste?"

"No, thank you; I already have some." Wuppah responded before wondering whether that was truly a wise idea. He had only just met Dresn and had no way of knowing whether or not he was trustworthy. "But I thank you."

"Okay; whenever you run out, I'm the male to see." Dresn promised. "Since you're a member of my squad, I'll sell it to you at half price. Ginger's exactly what you need; don't forget."

"I shall do so," Wuppah informed him, though privately he was far less sure. He had no idea that this "ginger" was spreading among Race troops to the point where some were making money selling it to others. He briefly considered reporting him to his superiors, but... Dresn would deny it and Wuppah wasn't sure if the herb was illegal. At least, he had seen no announcements to that effect.

Even though his exhaustion was immense, it took a long time before his conscience allowed him to fall asleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

October 27, 1982:

_31 minutes, 24 seconds. _David thought about how much time they had before the lizard's satellites passed over their territory again. Almost all of theirs had been destroyed, except for a few in Low Earth Orbit that the enemy believed were out of power.

Everything that they could do to camouflage their equipment from the lizards, they had done. They had launched raids, but lighting fires a good distance away from where their equipment actually was had been effective in keeping their forces intact.

"Major... I could get used to that." David admitted. He wasn't expecting to be a major in the 24th Infantry Division for some years, but the invasion had caused many to rise quickly through the ranks, including individuals who, in his opinion, were not yet ready for such a level of responsibility. However, they were in no position for peacetime luxuries.

Hopefully, what they had done to prepare themselves would be sufficient for their counterattack. The New England States, New York, and eastern Pennsylvania were still free of lizard invaders, giving them more opportunity to train their new recruits. It was the largest army the United States had mobilized since World War II and they were ready to drive into the heartland of lizard-held territory.

David briefly noticed their new commander Norman Schwarzkopf walking by. The General was well suited for training the new recruits and was well-known for his efforts to improve the quality of the U.S. military in the years prior to the lizard invasion. The post-Vietnam military had been hollow, both in numbers and quality, and it was only beginning to improve when circumstances changed.

He wondered how his wife Holly was holding up. David was luckier than some of the men under his command in which he knew she was safe, whereas certain soldiers had already gotten the news that someone they loved had been killed in the fighting, particularly individuals that were from Ohio.

_17 minutes, 3 seconds. _They would have to make sure the lizards believed that nothing was amiss. The counterattack was a major gamble and if it failed, the United States would not have sufficient forces to try again for several months. David showed none of his doubts in public, however. He had an image of toughness, bravery and confidence, exactly what they needed if they were going to succeed.

The lizard's satellites eventually came and went. David could only just make them out through his high-powered binoculars. They had a massive amount of men and material, and it was hoped that if a couple brigades were discovered and attacked, it would not compromise the plan as a whole. Each of the officers were under orders to stay at their post unless directly attacked and not to assist any other division under fire. Not all of them were happy with the decision, not by a long shot, but David knew it made a certain amount of cold-blooded sense. The key to victory would be for the Race to think that the United States was on the verge of collapse and unable to muster such a large force.

Not all of their troops were American, however. There were close to 125,000 Canadian and Australian soldiers that were brought to bolster their counterattack and an equal number of British soldiers, as many as Thatcher believed that the United Kingdom could spare. The "Special Relationship" between the two nations was proving a valuable asset.

_Amazing they haven't attacked some of our brigades already. _David thought to himself, while writing a brief letter to his wife wanting her and their children to know he was still alive and unscathed. It was only four lines, but the content was less important than the letter itself.

Two hours later, they received a communication from Dmitriy Feodorovich Ustinov, the Soviet Minister of Defense, and one from the People's Republic of China. Britain was already fully prepared, while they were still waiting for signals from Japan, India, Germany, and France. After being hit with nuclear weapons, France had been crippled, but was not yet out of the fight. It was hoped that with every major power still in the fight launching an attack at once, the lizards would be unable to redeploy their forces, being hit in all directions.

Within 24 hours, Operation Meteor would begin.

XXXXXXXXXX

That chapter ended up being longer than I originally planned, as has this story as a whole, but I think it was worth it. Let me know what you think of it.


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, sorry about having the chapters bunched together in the first version. I've managed to fix it now.

November 2, 1982:

"Boy, am I glad I've gotten out of the sewers." Alexis thought as he prepared to go into action again. He had spent close to three weeks inside before he was rescued. Alexis had been beginning to believe that he would be stuck there forever, doomed to die of either starvation or radiation poisoning.

One of the effects of the nuclear strikes on Paris and other strongholds was to mobilize the entire country to resist the lizards. It was hoped in previous months that some kind of peace could be made- Alexis knew for a fact that even during the invasion, many hoped that negotiations with the lizards would be possible. After the nuclear strikes, all of it had been called off.

He had seen some of the aerial photos of Paris and was surprised at what he saw. While it had suffered a great deal, there was not wholescale devastation the way Alexis originally thought there would be. Even some recent buildings only a few hundred yards away from ground zero were still standing and survivors were located, even if few in number. When he asked about that, one of them informed: "Our buildings are a lot stronger and more resilient than the ones at Hiroshima and Nagasaki; wood does next to thing to protect you against nukes."

Nevertheless, confirmed deaths in Paris were around 350,000 and another 130,000 had died from the four tactical bombs used on their troops, crippling their defensive capabilities. Alexis was near the border with Belgium, where they were preparing for their role in the worldwide counter-offensive. Despite the heavy fighting he had seen, Alexis refused to give up, refused to slow down, until France was free of invaders.

With 2/3rds of the country occupied by the lizards, though, finding enough men (and a few women) to fight was proving to be problematic. Britain was sending as many troops as they could spare, just as they had sent them across the Atlantic to fight alongside the Americans. Germany was sending a few divisions as well, but since much of their country was also occupied, the amount of help they could send was limited.

_Never imagined we'd have to depend on the Germans to defend us. _Alexis shook his head. The presence of German troops inside France made him slightly nervous, and from the looks of his countrymen, he wasn't the only one. The older townspeople had a personal memory of German forces marching across the border, destroying everything in their path.

Even so, not all the news was bad. Alexis had been promoted to adjacent-chef, meaning that he was officially an officer. True, adjacent-chefs barely deserved the name, but he wasn't about to quarrel about it. He even had eight men under his command. It was a strange feeling for him, but not altogether unpleasant.

The best news of all, however, was a letter from his parents and siblings. Alexis had nearly cried when it was delivered to him. There were only a few lines, as they were living in lizard-occupied territory, but they were alive. That was all Alexis needed to hear from them. _Maybe I'll be able to reunite with them after all. _Alexis thought, taking out the last photo taken of them the day before he went off to basic training.

"Maybe you should hide that thing," One of the English lieutenants pointed to his photo, a small grin on his face. He spoke French fluently with only a slight accent, making Alexis think that he had spent a considerable amount of time in his country.

"And why should I do that?" Alexis snapped at him, his good mood ruined. "It is the first time I have heard from my family in months!"

"Haven't you ever seen a war movie?" The lieutenant pointed out, not in the least put out. "Everyone who shows people a picture of their family gets killed." His voice then turned serious. "All kidding aside, though, I'm glad they're still around." He looked about to say something else, but refrained. "It must be a great weight off your shoulders."

"Yes, it is, thank you." Alexis responded. His greatest nightmares had not been of the possibility of being wounded or dead, but learning that something had happened to his loved ones. The most vicious one was when he was restrained by the lizards, with his father, mother, and two sisters being shot and collapsing into a trench. At one time, he had distant Jewish relatives, none of whom had survived the death camps.

The new recruits had been hastily gathered together and to Alexis' eye, easy prey for any lizard aircraft who spotted them. _Was I really this clueless when I started? _Alexis wondered; he doubted he could ever have been so confident in his invincibility as they seemed to be. His eyes looked up at the sky every few moments, ready to throw himself to the ground, reflexes honed by battle.

He eventually walked to his new squad, who immediately saluted at his presence. Alexis looked them over with a critical eye, not speaking a word to them, but all of them were nervous when he stared at them. _They're not up to an operation of this scale. _Alexis mentally concluded, but made sure to keep his body language impassive. If they thought he didn't believe in them, their survival chances were almost nil.

"Sir... when is the counterattack going to begin?" One of them, slightly bolder than the others, asked Alexis.

"Whenever we receive the signal," Alexis informed, which was not likely to be for a few days. Ever since the brief nuclear exchange, fighting in France had quieted into an uneasy stalemate. The lizards had lost many of their forces, but France was not in any position to take advantage of their weakened situation. Skirmishes and raids were common on both sides, but neither had made a serious attempt to advance. If Alexis had to take a guess as to why, the lizards were stretched thin trying to conquer the Northern Hemisphere.

_And so are we, _Alexis thought. With so much of the country being held, there were only a certain number of people they could mobilize. They were in contact with guerillas behind the line to make life difficult for them, but they were still in the process of training the new fish.

"Sir, permission to ask a question?" One of his soldiers stared at him, looking slightly nervous.

"Granted; what is it?" Alexis asked, more shortly than he intended.

"How... how do we stay alive out there?" He wondered. The man was older than Alexis was, but he had superior rank and experience, so he deferred to him. "I'm willing to fight; just not willing to die anytime soon."

Alexis knew better than to think that advice was guaranteed to keep him alive. Sometimes, it was nothing more than luck that had kept him alive through all this. "One important thing to keep in mind is that you are not invincible." Alexis declared, deciding to start with the basics. "If you act like nothing out there can touch you, you're liable to end up dead before you realize you've made a mistake."

"All due respect, sir, that advice seems pretty obvious." Fernand protested. "Do you have anything else for us?" Alexis reminded himself that they were inexperienced and frightened to keep from snapping at them.

"It may sound basic, but it cannot be repeated enough." Alexis emphasized. "I've seen plenty of good men, smart men, end up dead because they didn't seriously believe anything could happen to them. Find cover, spread out, take the high ground if you can, and know your limitations, both of your skill and your weapon. Do that at all times and you'll get home alive." He hated lying to them, but Alexis could see that a couple of them looked to be on the verge of panic. "Oh, and one last thing: maintain your weapon. If it malfunctions, it's useless, no matter how much ammunition you have for it."

Alexis heard the air raid siren blaring and immediately dived to the ground. His squad was somewhat slower, and he grabbed the arm of one who wasn't fast enough and pulled him to the ground, the man dropping with a groan of pain. He took shelter behind a concrete wall, making himself as small a target as he can. He prepared his weapon, even though it was just aircraft... at least as far as they knew. The lizards' front lines were seventy kilometers away, but it wouldn't be the first time they had sent paratroopers.

_You'll be fine; you've got through this many times now. _Alexis told himself. Fear no longer overwhelmed him, but it was a strong presence nonetheless. The bombs were deafening, and even with his ear protectors, they were starting to ring. He could see the dust drifting down his helmet as he curled himself into a ball, using his pack to protect his face.

Much to his dismay, he saw all but one of his squad members still bunched closely together instead of spreading out. "Spread out, you stupid sons of bitches!' Alexis screamed, but he couldn't even hear his own voice. "Are you trying to get yourselves killed?"

He could vaguely hear the surface-to-air missile batteries launching their deadly payload. Alexis prayed that at least some of them hit their targets. He crawled away from the others, taking out his bayonet to increase the size of a small hole that he found on the grass. Fortunately, he had been through them often enough to where he was at least able to think rationally.

Just as soon as the air raid began, it was over. Alexis got up, but cautiously, ready to dive down again at a moment's notice. "Now to see if any of them are still alive..." Alexis muttered to himself. He mentally promised to do his best to make sure they got home safely, despite their best efforts to thwart him.

All of them were and uninjured, so far as he could tell. Alexis sniffed and noticed that at least a couple of them had crapped themselves. He'd pretend he noticed nothing, though; it had happened to him a few times as well. "Is everyone all right?"

"What?" Gabriel asked. "I can't hear you; why are you whispering?!" A quick examination informed him that he had forgotten to put on his ear protectors when the raid began. He had to remember that what was obvious to him was anything but for these new recruits.

"Use your goddamn ear protectors!" Alexis screamed two feet away from him. "Your ears should stop ringing in a few minutes, but in the future, always use them if you're in combat, or a raid! Otherwise, you're going to end up permanently deaf! If you fire your weapon without them, your eardrum can end up rupturing, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Gabriel saluted, shaking his head rapidly to stop the ringing, though it didn't help any.

"Does anyone have any other questions?" Alexis asked. "Now's the time; we're going to be fighting as soon as we receive the signal."

"How... do we ever stop being afraid?" Lambert wondered. He just had his eighteenth birthday, so he was the youngest of the squad. "How can we fight back if you're terrified that you're going to die?"

"You never stop being afraid; you just learn to fight on in spite of that fear." Alexis informed. "All of us are afraid, each and every time we enter combat. You just need to learn to make fear your companion, instead of your master, but that will only come with experience." There were some things, though, that could not be described, could not be truly understood, not until someone was in the middle of a firefight.

XXXXXXXXXX

November 5, 1982:

_It's gone better than I expected. _Andrei thought, looking at the world map. In truth, he was skeptical about how effective their counterattack was going to be, especially since the original plan was to wait until close to the new year, when the lizards would be truly incapacitated.

In the Soviet Union, even if they were not feeling the full effects of winter, it was enough to slow them down, being that they were from a much warmer planet. The Rasputitsa was also having an effect, being that their vehicles were ill-equipped to handle the terrain. "I would have thought they would prepare for it." Andrei muttered to himself. They had sent a probe that arrived in 1141 that gave them a complete report of Earth's geography, or "Tosev 3" as they liked to refer to them.

"I'm sorry, did you say something to me, comrade General?" Ludmila asked him, sounding unhappy. She wanted to be in the Soviet Union, training pilots to fight the alien invaders. Andrei personally thought she would be much more useful there than in Iceland, but if Brezhnev didn't, his opinion meant absolutely nothing.

"Nothing, just reading the reports of the Rasputitsa." Andrei responded. If they were having such difficulty in the fall, what would they be able to do in the spring? The realization gave him a slight smile. Contrary to what many Westerners believed, the Soviet Union was more than capable of defending themselves without winter to rescue them.

Unfortunately, they had lost a couple dozen more of their ICBMs and a couple hundred of their warheads, even if many of them had been moved to other locations. The commanders in charge of it were immediately executed, a drastic step that had not occurred in decades, but Brezhnev was furious over such a heavy loss. Fewer of their warheads were submarine-based than the United States, so the lizards' attempts to destroy them had hurt the USSR more.

He pushed himself to his feet, gripping the desk to make sure he didn't fall over. Andrei was well aware that with his broken body, it would be impossible to get up again. Even after all these years, he still sometimes resented what he had suffered in his youth. He grabbed his cane and once he was convinced he had a firm grip on it, let go of the desk and began to slowly walk out of his office. "We have a meeting to attend." Andrei ordered.

Throughout his physical struggles, Ludmila had simply stood there, uncertain of what to do. Her first instinct was to assist him, but she had been warned that he took a lot of pride in not needing any external help, even if it meant suffering more than was necessary. "Of course, Comrade General." She immediately agreed.

He moved slowly, just as he always did. Andrei knew that if he were a lesser man, he would be screaming or at least moaning in pain with every movement. In spite of that, however, he would much rather have been on the front lines fighting the lizards. Instead, he was trapped in endless meetings with former enemies, with arguments breaking out almost every single day.

Everyone had their own ideas, their own strategies on how best to beat the lizards. Although some were hoping for a united approach, it was clear to Andrei by this point in time that each of the major powers were going to use whatever tactics they thought best, regardless of what the others believed.

He entered the room, ordering the two members of the KGB with him to ensure that there were no bugs, human or alien. Even if they were technically allies, Andrei knew that the capitalist countries would love nothing more than to sabotage their plans. "Greetings, comrades." He spoke to his Indian and Chinese counterparts, Rajesh Madan and Qiang Li, through his interpreters and theirs. "Why have you requested a meeting?" Andrei knew full well why they were here, but the social niceties had to be observed.

"We'd like to know what has happened to the shipments you promised us." Madan scowled at Andrei. "We have only received a handful of your tanks, less than thirty percent of what you promised us." Much as Andrei wished to argue with him over that, he couldn't. The strategic situation in the Soviet Union changed and the Politburo decided that they could not afford to send as much equipment as they requested.

"Our investigations are continuing." Andrei promised, only half-lying. "I apologize for the delay. Unfortunately, the lizards succeeded in hunting down and destroying many of our convoys."

"The People's Republic of China wishes to speak about improving our efforts to coordinate our attacks." Qiang Li informed him, sounding somewhat less hostile. "Our industry is gearing up for a wartime economy, but much of our land is currently occupied by the lizards. What help can the Soviet Union offer?" The southern half of China was held by the lizards, even though guerillas were making life miserable for them. Some lizards had even been pulled from the Soviet and American fronts to deal with them, a welcome relief for both countries.

"We can offer trainers for your pilots, and whatever training aircraft you require." Ludmila stated. It would allow the Soviet Union to get rid of much of their obsolete aircraft, allowing them to hurt the lizards while not losing their precious commodity of pilots as well. "The Politburo would have to give the final authorization, however."

"For which we thank you," Li gave a slight glare, but refrained from doing anything openly. There were in no position to refuse what was offered, even if they were no match for the lizard's aircraft. "Our pilots are brave, but inexperienced, so instructors will be a great help to us all." It was evident, however, that the Sino-Soviet split was still alive and well. "I presume that you have made good use of the anti-tank rockets and mines you received." Andrei told his Chinese counterpart. As they shared a much larger border with China, it was much easier to supply them with weapons. There was some disagreement among the Politburo about whether or not to give them blueprints of their more advanced SAMs, but ultimately they answered in the affirmative.

"I wouldn't doubt it; have you heard the latest reports from our forces?" Madan now glared openly. "Lucknow and Gwalior have both fallen. Our men are brave, but have little equipment to fight back with. As the Soviet Union is apparently either unable or unwilling to provide us with it, we looked elsewhere. The United States has agreed to give us a fighting chance. So far, we have received 5 billion of their dollars worth of weaponry."

_Bozhemoi!_ Andrei cursed beneath his impassive mask. He hadn't thought that they would have so much to spare, not with such a massive counterstrike. However, he believed he knew the Americans' true goals, which were far more than assisting India: they wanted to remove them from the Soviet sphere of influence. While technically a non-aligned nation, India had close ties with the Soviet Union, despite their animosity towards China.

It took him only a few seconds to realize that he was being manipulated. Madan knew the strategic situation as well as he. India had plenty of pro-western factions, even if diplomatic relations were cold, if not outright hostile. Relations between the two powers were slowly improving, something the Soviet Union was not about to allow unchallenged. Andrei hated playing along with Madan's games, but they appeared to have little choice at the moment.

"Assistance will be forthcoming; the Soviet Union will not neglect its allies." Andrei promised. Whether he could follow through with it was another matter. It depended on whether or not they could spare anything for China and India, and that would depend on how successful their counter-offensive would be. Most territory west and south of Moscow was held by the race.

"I understand the difficulties you are facing." Li informed. "In return for your support, we will escalate our guerilla activities in the regions of our nation that the lizards currently occupy, and force them to withdraw soldiers from your land in order to try and defeat us."

"Are you capable of doing so?" Andrei questioned, giving him an intense stare. He was skeptical of China's ability to do so. They had a massive population, yes, but most of their equipment and nuclear weapons were destroyed.

"If we were not, the Race would have already conquered us." Qi gave a small smile. "Our intelligence indicates that they have already withdrawn a few divisions from the fighting in Europe to combat us. If our activities increase, we can provide you with some breathing room... provided you give us everything my government is requesting."

"My government is expressing the same request." Madan stated. He gave a further warning as well: "It does not matter to us who is willing to send us the weapons we need, so long as we receive them." Irritation aside, Andrei could sympathize with Madan's position, at least to a point. Out of the major powers still in the fight, India was the only one for whom the changing climate provided no relief.

"Please keep in mind that our men are fighting and dying to stop the lizards advances, just as yours are."Andrei pointed out, wishing more than ever that he was on the front lines. He was a field commander, not an armchair general. "Everything we can do to assist you, we are. If you want more, then perhaps you should offer it in return."

"We may have a way to do just that." Madan nodded, a satisfied smirk on his face. "We have recently discovered that the lizards are adversely affected by ginger. Nothing but a spice for us, of course, but to them, it is a drug, a powerful drug. My government has already received a few electronics systems traded to us in return for large amounts of ginger."

"The Soviet Union has noticed the same thing; what are you getting at?" Andrei asked. Ginger was easy to obtain, even under wartime conditions.

"We have found a way to weaponize it." Madan informed him. "If we use this against their infantry, it will addle them, give them a feeling of invincibility and prone to making tactical mistakes." This news he had not heard. There was some talk among the Politburo to try and turn it into a gas, but it was expected to take several months to a year before it would be reproduced on a wide scale.

"Have you successfully tested it?" Andrei demanded. For all he knew, this could be a ploy to exaggerate their success in order to get more help.

"It has not been tested under battlefield conditions, no." Madan admitted. "My government feels that it will be more effective if used on a large scale in a short span of time rather than give them an opportunity to adapt to it."

"The lizards have been extraordinarily slow to adapt to anything we've done." Andrei pointed out, his suspicions still strong. "They were expecting us to be sword-swinging savages, not have a level of military technology to rival their own. Some of their commanders still fight as if the original plans were in effect. Why do you think the lizards will adapt to it so quickly?"

"There is still wisdom in not giving them the chance, even if the risk is smaller than it would be against a human opponent." Li pointed out, leaving the room temporarily, most likely to inform his superiors about the potential of this new weapon.

"They are less adaptable than us, but they are not incapable." Madan warned. Andrei conceded the point. While some of their commanders walked into ambushes even the most foolish human would have seen, others were learning and improving their tactics. "We have a couple of prototypes ready, but they have not yet been tested. It is scheduled to take place in ten days."

"I will speak to my superiors and attempt to convince them to reinforce you." Andrei promised. It would not be easy, but there were enough in the Politburo who would see the wisdom of it. He knew that even absent their give-and-take diplomatic game, if India got desperate enough, they would likely use what remained of their nuclear arsenal to defend themselves. "The amount of support my superior decide to give you is dependent on allowing our scientists to assist in this new weapon of yours."

"Of course, General." Madan nodded. They spent the next hour arguing with each other and finalizing the details, although no decision would be made until their superiors were informed and made their call.

Once the meeting was concluded, he allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. "I'm not sure I like them manipulating us." Ludmila grimaced. Andrei wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Neither do I, but we have bigger concerns at the moment." Andrei pointed out. Ludmila was somewhat more outspoken than many Soviets would be, especially growing up under Stalin's rule. Andrei was wise enough to realize that his subordinates had intelligent input and so tolerated questions... to a point. They all remembered their previous rivalries, but nobody could allow that to get in the way of the war effort. "Send the communication to the General Secretary and give him my recommendation."

"As you command, Comrade General." Ludmila nodded and walked off to do so. He made a mental note to see what he could do to get her back to training pilots for the Rodina. Her talents were being wasted in this bureaucratic mess. For that matter, so were his, but he was here to stay.

"We cannot allow India to fall under the influence of the capitalists." Andrei muttered, scribbling a note to that effect. He didn't dare go into details, even in the privacy of his office. He regretted even saying that much out loud. His security team had done their best to eliminate any bugs they could find, but missing one was entirely possible. The two in the German conference that were planted and so far, undiscovered, for example.

The most important thing of all, however, was that the worldwide counteroffensive was slowly liberating territory that the Race had taken, however costly it was proving to be. So far, the greatest success was in Siberia for the Soviet Union. _You had your chance, but just try stopping us now. _Andrei thought.

XXXXXXXXXX

November 8, 1982:

Betvoss had been assured repeatedly that the trip was safe, that the Big Uglies had no weapons that could hurt them, that they were being transported under heavy escort. The Race made few mistakes and overprepared as a matter of routine.

It didn't make him any less nervous flying in the starship. Their transport killercraft, at least what was left of them, were insufficient to transport large numbers of males, at least in the number the conquest was currently requiring. The starships were resistant to radiation, resistant to all the tosevite air-to-air missiles. It only reassured him to a certain extent. Five had been wrecked during the landing, and one went down with all hands.

There were over ten thousand males of the Race inside the ship and if it was shot down, that would represent a serious blow to the war effort. Many of his fellow males were confident that they would be safe, but some were even more nervous than Betvoss was.

_Could be worse... I'm still alive, unlike poor Skyrim. _Their battalion and another that had been worn down by war were being merged into one. His battalion's losses were around 22%, certainly not enough to justify a full merger. It made Betvoss wonder how much the one on the other side had suffered.

"Superior sir, where is the starship taking us to?" Betvoss wondered. As of yet, he had not been given that knowledge. It couldn't be worse than the Eastern Front of the United States, which was currently eating up males the way a Ynd would consume Jugyr, a small insect species on home; Tosev 3's equivalents were called ants, he believed.

"I've heard we've been transported to China." Premas informed. "I don't know for sure, however, but they should brief us when we arrive." The ship was capable of traveling very quickly, even if it took a lot more energy, since they were accelerating in an atmosphere and not a vacuum.

"We'll find out when we arrive; no point in speculating before then." Votal stated. He had a point, but Betvoss couldn't help it. He hated being unprepared, but on the other hand... what could be worse than the bitter fighting he had endured in the United States? They were the most technologically advanced army, even if the Soviet Union was larger and had more inhospitable weather.

The starship gradually turned down its engines, even though it was still traveling at close to two thousand miles an hour. In the atmosphere, the ship would gradually slow down without needing an equal amount of energy to decelerate. Betvoss waited impatiently to reach their destination, though he idly wondered why that was the case. Once they landed, it wouldn't be long before they were once again in danger.

Around a day-twentyth later, the starship slowly landed on one of the captured airports, which was extended in order to permit landing of such large vehicles. Fortunately, this starship had smaller rockets on the bottom, permitting a vertical takeoff as well... to a degree, at least. Only about 150 of their ships had this ability.

Betvoss grabbed his equipment, including his coat of Big Ugly manufacture, and prepared to meet his new commander. Absently, he thought that if the Big Uglies were going to strike, this would be a perfect opportunity to do so. They'd be able to kill tens of thousands of males that the Race would be unable to replace. He tried to keep as much confidence as he could in the starship's armor and their security.

The hatch gradually opened, the door close to thirty yards in length. Once they were able to leave, they did so in an orderly fashion, although Betvoss' eye turrets scanned the skies for Big Ugly killercraft.

"I keep thinking we're about to be bombed." Premas worried.

"Intelligence reports indicate that in this part of Tosev 3, the natives have no functioning killercraft." Votal spoke up. "We destroyed all of them during the initial landing."

"One less thing to worry about, then." Betvoss stated, although he wondered how accurate their intelligence really was. Even now, they had become known for underestimating Tosevite military capability. Some even thought that their EMPs would render them unable to fight back, which proved a highly erroneous assumption.

They assembled in single file and marched towards the buildings that the briefings would be held in. Even if Bevtoss had yet to see anything of the city he was supposed to be occupying, he could smell the smoke in the air, in addition to gunfire and artillery in the distance.

They noticed a few local Big Uglies working on maintaining the runway, along with the rest of the facility. To his eye turrets, every one of them was a likely spy. Why was the Race working with individuals who obviously could not be trusted? It was a question he intended to ask when the briefing was over.

The room was built to sit 1,000 Big Uglies; for males of the Race, perhaps twice as many could be seated here, now that there were chairs designed for their body. A battalion group-leader walked up to the podium, and waited for everyone to be seated. Betvoss surmised that this was most likely their new commander.

"Greetings, Males of the Race." He began. "I am battalion group-leader Treek."

"I greet you, superior sir." All of the males replied in unison.

"While we are going to be unable to give you all of the details of the war effort in this part of Tosev 3, information will be vital to your current survival." Treek began. "The area on the southern part of the main continental mass is called China by the natives and the People's Republic of China by its government. Our researchers are still pondering its meaning.

"China is the most populous of the not-empires on Tosev 3, containing over a billion Tosevites. Such a massive population is a contradiction, considering that they are much less industrialized than the other major powers of this planet, in addition to their still-rapid population growth." He went on for the next half-hour describing what they know of the nation's history, it's beliefs, culture, and government.

Next he went on to describe their military capabilities. "China has few modern landcruisers, troopcarriers, or killercraft, and the ones they did possess were destroyed within days of our landing. Presently, we control 52% of their land area. Their forces do not have the technology or training to meet us in direct combat, allowing us to rapidly advance through their not-empire.

"Unfortunately, the Tosevites have figured out their inability to meet us in direct combat, but instead of submitting, they have resorted to what their military manuals call asymmetric warfare. This has proven to be much more effective and indeed, has even halted our advance. Casualties, while much lower than in the major fighting areas, are still considerable. The larger effect is that the 1.6 million males we have in this region are unable to assist our comrades.

"Over the past two weeks, asymmetric warfare has intensified, and outside support to these groups has grown massively. We believe this as a ploy by the two superpowers to trap as many of our males here as they can, as they are currently launching a counteroffensive in an effort to break our momentum." Betvoss stopped listening to this part of his lecture; he had already served in one of the superpowers and knew the situation better than the commander.

Once Treek got back to China, though, he began to pay attention again. "One of their tactics that has complicated efforts to put down the rebellion is the group's willingness to use human shields in their attacks. As the Tosevites have strong emotional connections to their hatchlings, they are the ones most frequently used. Each death of their hatchlings brings more outrage, and more recruits, even though logical beings would have blamed their deaths on the groups fighting us, instead of the Race.

"For those of you who have been fighting the superpowers, as the Big Uglies refer to the USSR and the United States, you would be advised to show more restraint than on those fronts. Civilian casualties are to be avoided if at all possible, as we have discovered that their deaths become a rallying point for their fighters. Their families, in particular..." He had to borrow the word family from the Tosevites: "...will be driven more than anyone to seek revenge."

Of all the things Betvoss was expecting, this wasn't it. Once the briefing was over, he had just as many questions as he did before, and the information they were given contained little useful advice about how to beat them. "His advice is likely to get us all killed!" Premas complained. "Who cares if the other Big Uglies get caught in the fighting; we've got to keep ourselves alive!"

"He has served in the region longer than we have." Votal reminded. "Our new commander knows how things work here better than we do. This... asymmetric warfare, as he called it, appears to be different than what we were facing before."

"How is it different than the constant ambushes in the United States?" Betvoss honestly wondered. The Americans used those kinds of tricks on them all the time, except perhaps the Big Ugly shields. "And the... Chinese are said to have far more primitive weapons. By the emperor, I know it's still dangerous, but compared to what we've already seen..." He habitually lowered his eye turrets at the thought of their emperor.

"Truth; I did not think of it that way." Votal admitted. "Even so, our two battalions are being merged, indicating that they are still a formidable foe. They are also receiving outside support."

"Our first patrol will be tomorrow; I expect we'll know more by then.' Betvoss signed. He doubted they were truly going to understand the region until they were attacked. At the least, he intended on speaking with the males who had been serving in China since the beginning to get a better perspective than he had gotten from the brief. XXXXXXXXXX

November 13, 1982:

"By the emperor, how could they have kept such number of equipment in reserve?" Atvar complained, seeing where the Big Uglies had succeeded in pushing them out of territory they had conquered.

"Our researchers believe they have discovered our vulnerability to the cold weather on this planet and waited until the seasons changed to launch their counteroffensive, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel answered.

That much he had figured out for himself. How, though, were they able to conceal so much equipment from their satellites, Atvar did not know. An even more chilling possibility was the idea that the Big Uglies had built all these machines in areas where the Race had new control. Even the most optimistic estimates claimed that they still had significant manufacturing capability.

"They must either be meeting somewhere, or still have communication lines that we have not disrupted." Atvar hissed with displeasure. "The fact that all the major powers launched their counterattacks at almost the same time cannot be a coincidence. It has kept us from redeploying forces in order to crush their rebellion."

"The Indian Subcontinent and China have also risen in rebellion, forcing us to divert males in order to crush them." Kirel added.

"We must have them fighting the major... what the Big Uglies call the western powers." Atvar's claw swiped the air being circulated in his starship. "Our pilots and artillery are expending munitions at an unacceptable rate to destroy their factories and power facilities. Yet the alternative is to let them continue to produce; if they succeed in gearing up to a war-time economy, our conquest is doomed. No matter the cost, we must prevent that from happening." He gave an empathetic cough.

The Rasputitsa in the Soviet Union had all but stopped their advance, and indeed, thanks to the males they had to recall to India, the Soviets were pushing them away from their territory, not to mention the partisans in the large part of the not-empire that they did control. Not to mention that they had evidently decided to start using poison gas as well, a far more lethal variety than the one in India.

"France... their industry should be been destroyed!" He exclaimed. "After the explosive-metal bombs were detonated on what little territory they still hold, they should be unable to fight or resist."

"And yet they are; their bombs killed many of our males, and the survivors are only just now returning to duty." Kirel stated.

Atvar tried to look at relatively quiet fronts that he could pull males from to deal with the new situation. Much to his dismay, he could not. The Middle East and North Africa were the only areas where the conquest was going mostly as planned, though with Israel, the last of them to fall occupied, casualties were unacceptably high. Southeast Asia, with Vietnam, Laos, Thailand, and Cambodia was proving to be a major nuisance as well. No place on Home or their other two worlds did they have such thick vegetation, providing the enemy with ideal concealment.

"Exalted Fleetlord, perhaps we should make an example of one of the not-empires resisting us." Kirel suggested. "If we use explosive-metal bombs, it may convince them to give up the fight."

"France has not surrendered, despite the damage they have suffered." Atvar reminded.

"No, Exalted Fleetlord, but it had greatly weakened their position, and left them unable to launch a counteroffensive." Kirel informed. "But which not-empire will we use this on?"

That was an easy question for Atvar: the United States. They had a new landcruiser, one that was able to match the Race on even terms. They had encountered them before, but it was evident that the Americans possessed far more of them than intelligence first believed. He put up the hologram showing the two fronts on the northern part of the lesser continental mass. The west, where conditions were far more favorable to them, the Race was still advancing but they had been slowed.

Los Angeles and San Diego had been surrounded and left to rot, as they were unable to muster enough males to conquer them outright. Atvar mused that it was a tactic that perhaps they should employ more often. They were cut off from supplies, although negotiations were continuing about allowing food and water shipments to the civilian population.

"We'll have to use multiple strikes for each city; their missile defense is formidable." Atvar mused, going along with Kirel's suggestion. Now... what would be the best places to employ them, taking into account the weather patterns and keeping his own males safe from fallout?

Ultimately, he decided to use 12 explosive-metal bombs on five targets: Washington D.C, Toledo, Detroit, Newport News, and Charleston. Atvar hoped that this would convince the Americans to surrender.

"It shall be done, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel replied in perfect submission.


	11. Chapter 11

November 14, 1982:

"Break formation, head to targets." The order was given, and Operation Retributive Strike began.

Rance Auerbach couldn't help but be slowly nervous. The compound was supposed to be impregnable to attack, even in a nuclear war, but they didn't take extraterrestrial invasion into account. Recent events had made things even more dangerous.

Newport News and Charleston had been almost completely destroyed. A fourth bomb detonated on the outskirts of Detroit, although thankfully not in the city itself. The fifth detonated in southern Philadelphia. They had major air defenses all around the major cities in case of nuclear attack, but there weren't enough to go around and protect every population center.

Rance turned his head and looked at Reagan, who was currently drumming his fingers against the desk with displeasure. The invasion had only lasted five months, but he appeared like he had just aged five years. Far as Auerbach was concerned, he was doing a remarkable job keeping it together, but he was still only human. Absently, he remembered how FDR had died under the strain of managing WWII and wondered if he would share the same fate; the fact Reagan was the oldest president ever elected didn't help matters, either.

_Nor did I ever think I'd be here. _Rance thought. He had retired as a Major General nearly ten years ago, but when it was confirmed that aliens were heading for earth, every commander who was capable was pulled out of retirement. Not that anyone objected; everyone knew what was at stake if they failed.

In some ways, though, this was less dangerous than World War II, as impossible as it sounded. The aliens behaved like old-style imperialists, not the Nazis or Imperial Japanese (he had far too much experience with the latter in his youth) With a few exceptions, they treated prisoners humanely and even allowed food transportation into areas under siege, Los Angeles and San Diego being the most prominent examples.

"ETA to first target: six minutes." One of the operators informed; the information was silently acknowledged.

"All for nothing, apparently." Auerbach whispered. Both the United States and the Soviet Union had done everything they could to keep nuclear weapons from being used. The taboo had been seriously weakened by France and now that America had been hit, the taboo was now totally destroyed. _Won't be long before Britain, the USSR, and the others use them too._

"Mr. President, we should be launching a more extensive attack." Casper Weinberger insisted. "Dragging the war out will cost millions of lives; we have the capability to hit their ships in Low Earth Orbit."

"No; I don't want to let the Race know that we have that capability." Reagan responded, politely but firmly. "They haven't found all our silos and I intend to keep it that way." Their silos had been proven to be quite vulnerable and the recent destruction of one of the last locations the Soviet Union had only increased concerns.

Everyone in the room was mostly silent. The Cheyenne Mountain bunker was hoped to be secure and considered the best place in the United States to command and guide the war effort. They had chosen a series of targets for their nuclear arsenal, ones that were considered the best way to cripple the Race.

Auerbach had heard the reports that they had originally intended to invade 40 years ago, all the way back in 1942. It would have meant fighting with much more feeble weapons and before they were fully geared for war. He knew that had he been fighting during that time, he'd likely end up dead. They had run the scenarios in which the Race invaded during that time, and nearly all of them ended in human defeat.

The first target was near Tucson, Arizona. Their fleet of F-16s had been spotted, from the indications on the radio, but at the moment, they didn't have enough stealth aircraft to do the mission. Those had been hastily pressed into service over a year before the planned introduction. The second reason was that a single missile being launched at their grounded ships would be seen as a nuclear strike; having two B61s among dozens increased the odds of success.

"The second squadron is currently in range of their target; final codes are being entered." Weinberger informed. "Do we deploy, Mr. President?"

Reagan tapped his fingers on the desk for several more seconds before finally saying: "Deploy." He gave a small sigh.

_They're not going to be very happy about that. _Auerbach thought. The second target was across the border into Mexico near Ciudad Juarez and while they were doing everything they can to minimize fallout and keep any civilians from being contaminated, they weren't 100 percent sure that it would work... but they had a chance to destroy five of their ships and weren't about to squander the opportunity.

"Missiles are on target... approaching." A radio report from a specially sealed vehicle declared on the ground. Being that their satellites were destroyed, they needed another way to determine whether or not their targets had been destroyed.

They were using the tactical version of the B61, instead of the strategic, over the objections of some of the commanders, who weren't sure if such a small bomb would be enough to destroy so many starships, especially since there was a good chance at least one of them would be intercepted. The Mexican Government, or what was left of it, had been informed, but the United States had not asked for permission. The ships were near Chihuahua, Mexico.

However, at the same time they learned the two bombs in Mexico had both detonated slightly under a mile above ground, they had received a report that the F-16 squadron they sent to Tucson had been destroyed. About a dozen missiles had been launched before that happened, but none of them were nuclear. _Hopefully, it'll at least deplete their antimissile stocks. _Auerbach thought, giving a brief salute to the courage of those pilots. Everyone knew that this was not far from a suicide mission, but nobody was going to allow the U.S. to be nuked with impunity.

"We need visual confirmation: has the target been destroyed?" A communications officer asked. It would have been much easier if they could get visual communication in the bunker, but nobody wanted the lizards to locate it. The officer waited patiently for the answer. Once it was given, he informed them: "Targets have been destroyed. I repeat, targets have been destroyed!"

There was a widespread cheer in the room and even Reagan looked to brighten up a little. That was a heavy blow that the lizards had been dealt, and even if their casualties were relatively low, those were still starships that could no longer be used to project their men from one side of the world to the other.

"Mr. President, we've got a lock on the third target." Auerbach spoke out. Unlike the previous two, they were able to use a pair of stealth aircraft. All but one of the targets were on the Western Front. The lizards were more suited to the weather, and the U.S. had most of their troops fighting in the east, even if guerillas were making their life difficult.

This group was headed towards Modesto, which had been turned into a fortress. Unlike the southern part of California, they had time to train the new recruits, although not as extensively as they would have done in peacetime conditions.

Once the president gave the order, ten Pershing II missiles were launched, three with nuclear weapons, than hastily moved to prevent any reprisals. As luck would have it, the seven decoys were destroyed, but the ones carrying actual missiles were not. _How the hell did that happen? _Auerbach asked in astonishment. He expected two of them to be intercepted, or at least one, but no, all of them got through.

The lizards were wising up, however, meaning that the targets they chose near Las Vegas, Chattanooga , and Dayton were all intercepted. A few missiles impacted the Race deployment in Chattanooga, but did minimal damage to their forces.

The question was: what would the aliens do now? Nobody knew with any certainty how many nuclear weapons they had, and none of their prisoners captured had that knowledge. It made a certain amount of sense. Most likely, the individuals who had that knowledge were in Low Earth orbit, beyond the reach of the United States.

If they kept going tit for tat like this, how much of the United States would be left?

XXXXXXXXXX

November 25, 1982:

"Those people are fucking crazy." Reuven remarked, but he was laughing as they observed the burning lizard tank. It had been hit from all sides with a dozen RPGs; all the men were killed in process, but they had succeed in wrecking it, killing the occupants, and halting the Race counterattack.

"We're all crazy; that's what living under Saddam does to you." Barzini grimaced. Currently, they were entering Mahabad, hoping to hold it at least temporarily before the lizards drove them out again. He was in charge of a dozen fighters and Reuven, who was a law onto himself.

For the first two days, they had clearly caught the enemy off-guard. They were accustomed to the Kurds, Iraqis, and Iranians hiding in the mountains and ambushing them, not going on the offensive.

"Stay off the main roads; we'll be a sitting duck if we use it." Reuven warned, hugging the nearest building and moving at a snails' pace. The lizards' front lines were about 100 yards away, with neither side being able to advance. "We should have surrounded the city; could have bagged a lot of lizards that way."

"We don't have the men or the equipment for that." Barzini reminded him. It wasn't just that, although it was a big part of it. Mahabad was an Iranian city, and nobody was sure what would happen if the Iranian, Kurdish, and Iraqi forces were left to their own devices. Infighting had already cost them too many valuable fighters, and efforts were being taken to avoid that. It had reduced the infighting, but did not end it.

"True, but let's make sure they don't surround us as well." Reuven warned. He moved forward a few more feet, then abruptly went to his belly as a stream of machine gun fire halted them in their tracks. Snipers were in the area as well, on both sides, even though most of the tall buildings had been wrecked to deny them access.

"I've figured that out on my own, Jew." Diyako snarled at him. Most of them were rather unhappy having Israeli agents among them, even though they had proven quite invaluable to the resistance, both in combat and intelligence.

Barzini had no idea what to make of him. Reuven was clearly unhappy about the remark, and his eyes briefly went to his weapon. Barzini moved between the two; the last thing they needed at the moment was more quarreling. Another burst of gunfire ended whatever might have happened at that moment.

Hearing the suppression fire informed Barzini that the lizards were trying another push to get them out of the city, even if they were moving more cautiously now that they had lost one of their tanks. Two armored personnel carriers moved, with their infantry providing cover to anti-tank rockets. Barzini hid in one of the alley, hoping very much that this would not be his last fight. They were not in a fortified position and would be thrown out in the lizards gained any momentum.

"Does anyone here have any anti-tank weapons?" Diyako asked. When everyone answered no, he let out a brief curse.

"We can still hurt them." Reuven promised, setting up a light machine gun. They were hiding under a pile of sandbags and rubble, which could give some protection against bullets, but none against the APCs cannon. He hid it well, but Barzini could see that he was just as afraid as everyone else.

They fired their weapons for a few seconds, then hastily retreated. Nobody wanted to be caught in the lizards barrage. Barzini grabbed the machine gun ammunition and fled at top speed, not daring to look back. He dived, tearing the skin of his leg even though his thick clothing.

He bit his lip to keep from screaming. Diyako helped him to his feet, while his son Adar went into a defensive crouch, throwing a grenade at the lizards. Artillery and helicopters began to pound their positions; Barzini couldn't help but wonder how many of them would get out of this battle alive.

_If Allah decrees that I die here, so be it. _Barzini thought. He'd come to terms with the possibility years ago, even since he joined the Peshmerga, but he'd like to delay it as long as possible.

The lizards were advancing cautiously, though. They had enough experience with humans to know that they could easily be walking into a trap. Artillery rained shells into the city, easily destroying any nearby buildings. Modern buildings were much more resistant to damage, but they were fighting in the older part of the city.

"Do we have anything to hit back with?" Barzini complained, growing weary of the constant barrage.

"I'm afraid not; believe me, I wish we did." Reuven replied. They didn't even have any mortars with them. The rubble provided them with some protection, but not much. "Still, at least we don't see any lizards coming our way. Care to take a look?" Reuven handed his binoculars to Adan.

"No, but I can't see a thing in this smoke." Adan pointed out. More shells cut off what he intended to say next.

"Wish we had more radios to know just what in the hell was going on..." Reuven muttered, but did not let his guard down for a moment. He aimed and fired his submachine gun at a platoon of lizards that were headed in their direction. "They're coming!" He shouted out a warning.

"Yes, I can see that." Diyako declared, opening fire with the machine gun. A couple of the lizards fell, but from this distance, none of them could tell whether it was from being hit or merely taking cover.

Everyone opened fire with everything they had, but at the same time, they were prepared to retreat. They were outnumbered and outgunned, but would do everything possible to hold them back. Barzini rolled left, exposing as little of himself as possible and threw a grenade in their direction. He had never been good at throwing, however, and it fell short of his target.

Two of them had already been hit, one of whom was dead. Diyako and Adan did what they could for the man's wounds, but with medical supplies so limited, it was unlikely that they would be able to save him. Barzini finally managed to hit a lizard, shooting it through the throat. The APCs cannon opened up just as he did, however, forcing him to jump over the rubble in order to avoid it.

He was fast enough to avoid a fatal wound, but shrapnel cut both his legs, another piece digging itself into his shoulder. Barzini laid open-mouthed, trying to force himself to move, but his body refused to obey him. Strangely, he didn't feel much pain, at least not yet.

Vaguely, he heard voices around him, but he couldn't tell where they were coming from or what they were. Barzini heard a loud scream. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was his own. He tried to say something, to give the order to retreat, but all he was able to do is scream. He could feel the blood pooling up around him, the bright sun forcing him to close his eyes.

Barzini felt his body being carried away and even if it meant he had a chance to live, he was unhappy about it; it meant that the Peshmerga were losing and the lizards were retaking the city once again. He personally didn't expect them to hold it for long, but if they could, it would have dealt a major blow to the Race. That was his last coherent thought before the pain overwhelmed him.

The next thing he knew, he was being set inside a tent and the pain began to disappear. After several hours of unconsciousness, Barzini's eye began to open and he saw Reuven standing right next to him. "Where... where are we?" He asked drowsily, tempted to sleep again, but knowing that the Peshmerga needed him kept him awake.

"We're in an aid tent; the lizards took us prisoner." Reuven explained. As Barzini came to, he noticed that Reuven had been injured as well, albeit much less severely. He had a bandage on his shoulder, but nothing more.

"Perfect... just perfect." Barzini sighed. It appeared that Allah had decided to allow him to live a while longer and as long as he could muster a single breath, he would not give up the fight. "Did anyone else make it?"

"Adan and two others; everyone else died." Reuven shook his head. Barzini absently wondered why the Jew even cared; it wasn't as if they were his own countrymen, but the dismay was impossible to mistake.

_Perhaps they're not as evil as I've always been taught. _He mused. Reuven was the first Jew he'd ever met, and certainly didn't act the way he had initially anticipated. Still, he had more important worries, like hoping that he'd actually survive his injuries; it was very touch and go at the moment.

XXXXXXXXXX

November 27, 1982:

_I am getting real tired of freezing my ass off, _Melanie thought as she stood, or rather, sat guard outside their crude shelter.

She heard artillery and gunfire in the distance, although she had no way of discriminating between American and Race weapons. Were they winning or losing? She had no way of knowing. Some of it was way too close for comfort, and indeed, a shell had impacted less than 200 yards away from their camp.

However, that also meant that they weren't going to be rescued in the near future. They were near a lake, allowing them to catch fish and a magnifying glass Thomas had brought with them allowed them to cook. They weren't completely unprepared, but none of them would be able to stay out here indefinitely.

"Just wish we had some cold-weather gear." Melanie shivered. Whatever they had was left behind and it wasn't like they could go searching. It felt below freezing, and based on the ice, it was. She wrapped her arms around herself and stayed at the edge of their shelter. They had found some branches and leaves, allowing them to improve its protection, but it still didn't keep everything out.

In fact, they'd had to rebuild it multiple times because a strong wind and accidentally bumping into it caused it to collapse on itself. It was a long trial-and-error process, but they had finally built something that would protect them from the elements. Melanie remembered from what little wilderness training she had as a child was to make sure they had food, water, and shelter. "We've got those for now." She muttered, still shivering.

She wished more than anything that they could build a fire to help them keep warm. Unfortunately, doing so would immediately draw attention for miles around, possibly hostile, so they were forced to suffer without one.

Deciding to head back to it, she took either not to wake up either Katherine or her brother. They were close, in order to share body heat. All three of them had done so on especially cold nights before their shelter was fully functional; there was some hesitation, but embarrassment seemed better than hypothermia.

Her nose wrinkled; they stunk, as did she, most likely. There was a lake nearby, but nobody wanted to risk hypothermia. Melanie briefly crawled out, took a few gulps of purified water, and crawled back in again. Being unable to sleep, her mind began to wander.

_How long are we going to be stuck out here? _Melanie thought. The answer was pretty depressing. If they couldn't call attention to themselves for fear the lizards would end up killing them, they could be stuck out here for a long time. Their rations were running low, and while they could fish, they had seen few squirrels or any other animals.

She couldn't recall falling asleep. She must have, however, since the moment her eyes began to open, she saw light coming into their shelter. And something else too... once her eyes opened wider, she saw someone's face mere inches from her own.

"Ahhhh!" She screamed, startled. Thomas and Katherine were currently laughing their heads off. "Yeah, ha ha, very funny." She growled at them.

"Sounds like someone doesn't want the food we found." Katherine smirked. There were cuts on her hands and face, some of which had dried blood on them. "We found a bird's nest and decided to help ourselves to some eggs."

"Or more precisely, she did." Thomas pointed to her. "I'm too big to climb a lot of those branches. We even got a full-grown bird out of it; should be ready in a few minutes."

"Where the hell did you get that thing?" Melanie asked when she got to her feet. The bird currently being cooked on the fire had to weigh close to ten pounds, even after it was plucked. Thomas immediately sat down a few feet next to it. She noticed that currently, he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His clothes were laid out on the ground to dry.

"I shoot... shot one at the lake when we were going to get water." Katherine explained. "It was a couple hundred feet out, early in the morning, so of course, that idiot over there decided to swim for it." Thomas was breathing hard, staying as close to the fire as he dared.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Thomas protested. "This should keep us fed for quite a while."

Melanie moved to the pot of water, but before she could take a sip, Katherine pulled her back. "Wait, we haven't boiled that yet. It's not a good idea to drink it."

"How much longer until I can boil it?" Melanie sighed. She was feeling rather thirsty and didn't much feel like waiting, even if she knew it was a good idea.

"It's going to take a couple hours." Thomas responded. "We want to make sure this goose is good and cooked; not like we have any medicine if any of us get sick."

"Shame we couldn't have used the campgrounds." Melanie sighed, trying to ignore her thirst. East Branch Reservoir had several that provided much more protection than their makeshift teepee. They'd been blown to bits in the intermittent fighting, though, so they were less than useless. Well, except to give them an idea of where they were.

After what seemed a lifetime, the goose was finally done and they were finally able to start purifying the water. _Least I'm not alone out here. _Melanie thought. Survival would be much more difficult if she was. Thomas had the theoretical knowledge of survival, while she and Katherine had the coordination to put it into practice. The phrase "misery loves company" had a part to play in that as well.

"We're doing pretty well for people with little training." Thomas stated, beginning to warm up. His clothes were nowhere near dry, though. "We've been out here for what, three weeks or so?"

"Something like that," Katherine agreed, using a sharp rock to cut meat off the duck. All of them ate as much as they could from it and the bird's eggs, being that they didn't know when they would get the next opportunity and not having the ability to preserve it.

"Real problem's hypothermia; wish like hell we could have used those campsites." Melanie sighed. They did not have enough cold-weather clothing and now they were paying the price for it.

"You know, we only traveled probably a couple miles to get away from that firefight." Thomas mused. "We could go out there and find some; it's not like its previous occupants are going to need it anymore."

"That's disgusting!" Katherine screamed at him. "You want to loot a bunch of dead, rotting bodies?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of packs that were left behind, but when it comes down to it, yes." Thomas agreed. Melanie took a drink rather than answer. Her brother had a good point. They were often hungry and thirsty, but had enough to survive. The cold, however, would end up killing them if they weren't damn careful, and if they were stuck out here during the winter, Melanie knew their survival was unlikely.

"Yeah, I think we'd better." Melanie concluded. That was assuming others didn't already do the same thing. They should have thought of it much sooner than they did; another sign of their inexperience in the wild. There had to be others out there, surviving in the same way they were. Melanie wanted to try and find them, but the lizards could very well find them first, and even if they did locate survivors, they could easily get shot by people mistaking them for the enemy. "When do you want to do this?"

"As soon as my clothes dry." Thomas responded. He knew he should feel awkward dressed in so little with his younger sister and her friend there, but they had far bigger concerns at the moment. Hypothermia was their biggest danger. Even in the daytime, Melanie sometimes shivered.

She and Katherine eventually decided not to wait for him and went off searching on their own. Both of them brought their weapons for defense, even if they weren't much use in a firefight. Besides, they could get lucky and kill a fox, or squirrel. "Do we really have to do this?" Katherine complained.

"Yes, I'm afraid we do." Melanie affirmed. It disgusted her just as much, but she liked the idea of freezing to death even less. She took out her compass to give herself at least some idea of where they were headed. When they were first forced to make a living in the wild, they had repeatedly gotten lost and unable to find their campsite.

They were walking next to, but not too close to, one of the hiking trails. However much she wished to use them, Melanie knew that it could also make them a prime target. More gunfire was heard in the distance, but it was so quiet that it was likely miles away. Her awareness heightened even so.

"Glad that's not us," Katherine sighed, rubbing her temple. "Hopefully, we'll be able to push them out and we can get rescued. Didn't they say these lizards hate cold weather?"

"Yeah, I think they did." Melanie agreed. She didn't know all the details, though; alien biology didn't interest her. "Hell, if they're so sensitive to cold, they might be stealing our clothing too to stay warm." It was beginning to look like they wouldn't find anything after all, but the effort still had to be made.

The smell of rotting corpses was the first thing that clued them into the fact that Melanie and Katherine had arrived at their destination. "Maybe we should have waited for him after all; make him do the hard work." Melanie laughed darkly. Her brother had no sense of smell, and when he cut up a dead body in his high school anatomy class, found it fascinating instead of disgusting.

Still... there was no sense complaining about it. The duo searched the woods, but despite the strong smell, they were not easy to find. Nor were all the bodies human. "Take a look at this," Katherine gestured her friend over. Melanie saw a lizard on the ground, its head blown to pieces. It was more intact than she would have expected, however. No flies, no maggots; perhaps they didn't like lizard flesh.

"A dead lizard; so what?" Melanie shrugged. She wanted to find survival materials, not decomposing aliens.

"He doesn't look so threatening from here." Katherine stated. The creature was barely four foot tall, about the size of an average 8-year-old. "It's almost like a kid."

"Can we get this over with?" Melanie sighed, looking up at the sky. They were sitting ducks for any aircraft or enemy patrol. Deciding to leave Katherine to it, she continued to search. About a minute later, she nearly tripped over a pack that was buried in the leaves.

Opening it up, she found a sheet that could be set onto their teepee, assisting in keeping them warm. "Maybe if we get lucky, we can even find a tent." Melanie muttered. A modern tent would be much more suitable than their rough design. The sheet would still be a great help, however.

"Hey, Melanie, come here!" Katherine exclaimed. "I found a pair of sleeping bags!" They were right next to a decaying body, and Melanie bit her lip to keep out a shriek. It was very different than anatomy class, with a body that had already been cleaned up. Much of its skin had already been eaten away, with maggots gulping down the remainder.

"Come on, let's get going." Melanie proclaimed, squicked. It wasn't just the sight of a decaying body, although that was a large part of it. It was also a reminder that it could have very easily been her, or Katherine, or Thomas.

"Have you found any food?" Katherine wondered. "Even rations are sounding to sound pretty good right now."

"No, I haven't." Melanie replied. It wasn't like all the supplies were located in a manner that was easy to find. Hell, they were lucky to find as much as they did.

A noise caused them both to freeze. A few seconds later, they immediately recognized them as footsteps. Melanie and Katherine immediately dived to the ground. True, they could be human, but on the other hand, perhaps they weren't. Even if they were human, it didn't mean it was safe to expose themselves. They could be thieves and bandits instead of soldiers.

Eventually, the group got close enough for them to tell that they were human. Most were wearing a mixture of civilian and military gear. Melanie moved a few inches closer, trying to decide whether or not to reveal themselves. With everyone on edge, they could easily be mistaken for lizards and only afterwards would they find out their mistake.

"So what are we going to do?" Katherine whispered.

"I have no idea; I was hoping you did." Melanie replied. She'd have to figure out how to get their attention without being shot. If she screamed, they'd likely end up killing them both. She thought about a sound that only a human could make.

"Hey, you!" Katherine screamed. Melanie felt like strangling her as the group suddenly stopped, spread out and readied their weapons. "We're friends!"

"If we get out of this, I'm going to kill you." Melanie muttered. But they did not immediately fire on their position.

"Show yourselves!" One of them screamed. "Stand up or we open fire!"

Melanie and Katherine slowly got to their feet, hoping this wouldn't be their last moments on earth. Guns were still pointed on them, but to their relief, nobody started shooting. "What are you doing out here?" One of them asked, not lowering his weapon, but no longer pointing it at them. He looked to be in his early to mid 30's, but looked to be the one in charge.

And so they both told their story, how they were recruited to fight the lizards, how their group was killed and the survivors scattered, and that they had been trying to survive out in the wilderness ever since, both trying to keep enough food to survive and avoiding any hostile encounters. They'd been out there for weeks, not knowing what in the hell was going on.

After they were done, the man simply nodded and said: "All right, you're not the first ones we've picked up. Are there any others in your party?"

"Yeah, my brother's out there a few miles that way." Melanie pointed out, once she believed they were no longer a threat to her. As crazy as it sounded, a large part of her was looking forward to hitting the lizards again. Having already been in a firefight, it didn't frighten her in the way it once had.

"Led the way," He gestured with his rifle. Melanie led them on, a small part of her still wondering if she was making a mistake.

"So what the hell has been going on?" Katherine asked. "We haven't heard a thing."

"There's some good news," He responded. "We've mostly pushed them out of Pennsylvania. Their garrison is Pittsburgh is surrounded and only a few parts of the countryside still belong to them. Elsewhere, the news isn't so great. Three of our cities have been hit with nuclear weapons."

"Which ones?" Melanie gulped.

"Charleston and Newport News were hit twice, Philadelphia once." He informed them. "Right now, we have no reliable death toll and doing everything we can to treat the survivors."

_Charleston... dear god, no! Please! _Melanie tried to keep herself from crying; it wasn't easy. Her parents currently lived there, and she hadn't heard anything from them since the invasion began. Neither she or Thomas had any idea if they were alive or dead, but if a pair of nukes hit the city, that didn't bode very well for them.

"Hope we blew those fucking lizards to hell." Katherine snarled; Melanie agreed wholeheartedly.

Her brother was startled when they first arrived, but quickly regained his composure. He quickly lost it, though, when he learned that Charleston had been bombed. A single tear crawled out of his eye, but he stayed silent. What could either of them say? Neither of them had heard any news about their parents for months.

"Normally, we'd have you spend some time recuperating before sending you out again, but we don't have that luxury." He informed them. "Lieutenant Hicks, at your service."

"Understandable; at least we're on the offensive for once." Thomas replied, his eyes hollow. Despite how terrified Melanie felt about going back into combat, a large part of her was looking forward to it.

_They'll pay; I swear they'll pay. _Melanie thought angrily.

XXXXXXXXXX

November 28, 1982:

_Here we go again, _Betvoss sighed to himself. One of their troopcarriers had been disabled, although thankfully not the one he was inside. No fatalities, but three of the males inside were injured. He was among the individuals watching all the buildings and people for any further attacks.

As a whole, though, he considered this in some ways easier than the previous fighting he was doing. Deaths and equipment losses were incremental, not wholesale. "By the emperor, when is this going to end?" Premas sighed. Not everyone shared his opinion, however. "This seems to go on forever."

"I wish I could argue with you." Votal responded, his eye turrets still scanning the area. "Unfortunately, I cannot."

The downside of this was that the fighting was constant and they could never know when a sniper would hit them, or when a bomb would explode in their presence, either by driving over one or having it detonate when they turned a corner. Betvoss looked over the Big Uglies and had no doubt that at least a few of them were members of the resistance.

All of them were getting used to danger, though, and there were no further attacks as they repaired the vehicle and flew the injured males to an aid tent. "I almost wish they would have attacked us; then we could have gotten rid of some of those pests." Premas hissed. His words made a certain amount of cold-blooded sense.

"But then they would have replaced their numbers," A male that had been in China since the beginning of the conquest pointed out. "Hardly seems fair, does it? We endure three casualties and they take none."

"Keep your eye turrets ready; they could launch another attack at any time during our patrol." The platoon commander warned.

"Yes, superior sir." Everyone else replied, even if it seemed like common sense. Most of those who were too foolish to follow such simple advice were already with the spirits of Emperors Past. Not that taking all precautions would be certain protection; Betvoss had seen males that were better soldiers than he was killed by the Big Uglies.

A second mine was detected and destroyed before their vehicles ran over it. This time, though, Tosevite bandits ambushed them. Betvoss immediately dived to the ground and killed as many of them as he could. These individuals were obviously untrained, likely their first taste of combat. He managed to take down three with a matter of moments and killed a fourth that was attempting to throw a... what the Tosevites called a "Molotov Cocktail" at their troopcarrier.

This time, none of them had suffered any injuries. "If only it was this easy all the time," Betvoss declared as their patrol resumed. Close to a dozen civilian Tosevites were killed; it was considered a minor concern to most, even if their superiors ordered them to minimize such incidents.

The skirmish may have been easy, but the war in China wasn't. Their advance had halted and the previous week, another two divisions had to be pulled to subdue the growing rebellion, males that were badly needed on other fronts.

The rest of their patrol went without incident, for which all of them were very thankful. Their bases were mostly safe, but even there, the Big Uglies launched mortars in their direction and too many shots could get through even the Race's construction.

"We've got a couple days rest; I intend to make the most of it." Premas declared.

"As am I... but not without keeping an eye on the Big Uglies." Votal added. A few males of the Race had already been poisoned by the Big uglies serving them food, which was why they were now forced to taste it before they served it to them. The ones that were caught insisted that they were innocent, that others had planted the poison. It might even have been true, but it didn't matter; all of them were executed.

"Agreed; it's a chance to get warm as well." Betvoss opened his mouth. He was told that this area was warm compared to some parts of Tosev 3, but he still felt cold even after wrapping himself up in clothing. Personally, he didn't even want to know what the truly cold weather was like, especially since winter was beginning in the Northern Hemisphere. He pitied the males who were forced to endure such conditions.

He heard the news feeds around the base, trying to put the best possible spin on the nuclear attacks the Americans launched at their positions. Nothing could hide the fact, though, that tens of thousands of males of the Race were dead, and 8 starships had been destroyed.

Betvoss knew all too well how determined they were. The Chinese were no less so, but had considerably less to fight with, even if the superpowers were providing them with equipment and training. They formerly had a nuclear arsenal before the Race destroyed it during the initial landing. _We hope, anyway. _Betvoss thought. Whenever intelligence believed something to be true, he was inclined to think the opposite was the case.

He let out a small sigh. That was not the way a proper Male of the Race was supposed to think. Betvoss would never have been so skeptical of his superiors before he went into cold sleep on a conquest that most assumed would be a walkover. He took for granted that his superiors knew more than he did about the proper way to do things, and he followed their lead.

Now, though, Betvoss had a great deal of trouble believing that, even on his good days. He had killed many tosevites, the Race had conquered large portions of the Big Uglies' most advanced not-empires, but contrary to what he had been told, they had not given in. If anything, the Big Uglies were fighting harder than ever. Why couldn't they figure that out? That begged the question, though: if explosive-metal bombs would not convince them to submit, what would?

He kept quiet about his growing skepticism of his superiors. Betvoss was far from the only one with those sentiments, however, he was certain. He had also had to adapt to a far greater degree than he had ever imagined when he left Home. How could the Big Uglies advance so quickly in 1,680 years? (He naturally used his own planet's revolutions rather than Tosev 3's slow pace)

Despite the danger and his misgivings, he did his best to enjoy his respite from combat. This was a proper building for the Race, not one of the Big Ugly strongholds their forces were currently using. Betvoss messed around with the computer simulations, including a few games that he enjoyed back on Home.

Even if he was bored, the feeling was very preferable to terror, which he endured during every fight with the Big Uglies. Betvoss caught up with Premas and the two of them decided to stay together. Friendships counted for the Race much more than it did for the Big Uglies; he'd heard that the enemy actually had families, a concept Betvoss still did not have more than a slight understanding of.

"Have you noticed that a lot of our fellow males are acting... odd?" Premas wondered.

"Not really, no." Betvoss made the negative hand gesture. Since Premas brought the subject to his attention, however, he looked around the base. Most were just doing as they always did whenever they were off the front lines, but a few... his fellow infantrymale was right; they were acting different. Unless the light tricked him, he could have sworn that he saw one male stick his tongue out and taste some kind of herb.

"Well, right after I got back, one of the clerks offered me some kind of herb." Premas responded. "Called it ginger, said it would be the best thing I've ever known, even better than anything on Home."

"What did you tell him?" Betvoss wondered. Now his interest was piqued.

"I thought about taking it, but... I had a bad feeling about him." Premas admitted. "When I declined, he cursed at me and skittered off."

"You made the correct decision, then." Betvoss approved. As a rule, Males of the Race behaved better than the Big Uglies, but that didn't mean they didn't have some shady characters as well. "I've gotten one or two offers myself." He'd kept quiet until now, since he didn't see that it was a major issue, but learning that it was not an isolated case made him begin to believe that he was mistaken.

"By the emperor, what is going on?" Premas wondered.

"I have no idea; I wish I did." Betvoss sighed. As a whole, though, he was far more concerned about enjoying what safety he could before going out on his next patrol. He ate his meal after making sure it wasn't poisoned, and afterwards sat down and tried not to think. He wasn't much in the mood for watching old movies, and had never been much of a book reader, paperback or electronic.

"Ten thousand years old and this is still quite popular." For Premas, it was an entertaining pastime. "I'm glad they were able to ship at least some of these with us for the trip." Unlike many, he also preferred to read the paper versions.

Half a dozen mortar shells hit the base, making Betvoss jump up and reach for his weapon before remembering that he had set it inside his locker. Only officers were permitted to carry weapons on base. Fortunately, the armor held, or they would be in far more trouble, but it was a reminder that Southern China had not yet been pacified.

"It never seem to end, does it?" Betvoss complained, his breathing and heart rate slowing down. Absently, he wondered when they would be allowed to carry weapons when not on active duty. No base in this part of the world had suffered more than a small raid, but with the Big Uglies, that could change at any time. Personally, he thought it was a foolish rule, but if his superiors thought otherwise, what could he do about it?

The rest of the day was uneventful, except for a bulletin containing an order from the fleetlord himself banning the Tosevite herb Ginger and warning that anyone found with it after three days would be punished. Betvoss couldn't see very many males disobeying it, even if the attempted conquest so far had changed them in ways not previously imagined.

Betvoss refused to admit it, even to himself, but he was beginning to think this was an impossible task for the Race.


	12. Chapter 12

I'm sorry about the delay on this chapter. I was sick for over two weeks, severely hampering my ability to write. Hopefully, this entry will make up for it. Enjoy!

XXXXXXXXXX

December 11, 1982:

"What exactly is the point of this?" Andrei asked, only barely managing to conceal how bored he was with the whole presentation. He had requested that he return to the front lines, where he could actually contribute to the war effort. He was not serving the motherland by going to these endless meetings and presentation.

Looking around the room, he saw that some of the representatives had the same opinion, but many of the Americans were enjoying hearing about alien planets. Currently, the ones lecturing were science-fiction writers, who were explaining everything they knew about the lizards. Unfortunately, much of it was little more than conjecture; not very useful.

_On the other hand, perhaps their information will be useful after all. _Andrei mused. They may have been civilians and he would not have let them know this kind of classified information, but at the same time, they were used to thinking outside of established parameters. Some of them could put themselves in the lizards' shoes and see events from their perspective.

"Can it really be true that the lizards worship their dead emperors as gods?" An Italian representative asked. "And even if they do, does this have any relevance to resisting them?"

"It's not as impossible as it seems." One of the presenter pointed out. Andrei knew he was a best-selling science fiction author, but could not pin him any more precisely than that. "Many cultures on earth venerate their ancestors and we have many similarities to the Race even today. What some would call a more benevolent version of a 'Cult of Personality'." He aimed those words directly at the Soviet and Chinese representatives.

"So what does this mean for us?" The main Japanese representative inquired. Unlike most of the major powers on Earth, Japan had been mostly spared from the invasion, suffering only air raids instead of direct invasion. Their scientists mentioned that the planet the Lizards called "Home" was mostly covered in land instead of water, meaning that they overlooked even large island.

"It means that even if we are currently winning this war at the moment, we cannot expect this to be a short struggle." This author Andrei did realize as Robert Heinlein. "For the Race, the emperor means absolutely everything, the same way a devout Christian, Jew, or Muslim follows the word of god... or a Communist follows the word of Marx."

"Or a capitalist follows Adam Smith..." Andrei pointed out, beginning to get tired at all the verbal jabs. He gave as good as he received, but it was becoming a major distraction.

"Their Emperor has ordered their fleet to conquer Earth, or Tosev 3, as they have designated us." Arthur C. Clarke pointed out. "They will obey, no matter how much this costs them. It is quite possible that they... will fight to the death." He looked extremely unhappy at those last words.

"Wouldn't they see reason?" Someone protested. "Yes, we're inferior to them in technology, but not so inferior as to allow them conquest. There are 5 billion humans on Earth, outnumbering their fleet 250 to 1. They can't possibly win at those odds."

"Do not forget their colonization fleet." Ludmila pointed out. "They will not leave their colonists defenseless, comrades." Andrei silently congratulated her for making an intelligent argument. The Soviet Union had come to the conclusion, perhaps sooner than everyone else.

"So we have to kill their entire army in order to persuade them to give up?" the sole Vietnamese general groaned. After the brief moment of despair, however, he continued. "If that is what is necessary, then we will fight on regardless of what any other nation might do." His nation had been quickly conquered, but the lizards were having about as much fun fighting in the jungle as the West had a decade before. They were little more than a nuisance, even with outside support, but nuisances all over Earth added up to deadly threats.

"Let us hope that will not be necessary." Robinson cut in, gesturing the assembled individuals to continue listening to the presentation without interruptions. Andrei did his best to put attention, even though much of this part of the lecture involved things he knew little about even on Earth, let alone an alien civilization.

Ludmila had many questions, but was too disciplined to ask him. _Suppose I can allow her a couple once all of this is over, _He thought. Andrei's only interest was information that could help them win the war, although a brief chuckle escaped his lips when they were informed that the lizards had a mating season instead of being fertile year-round, which was the reason the conquest fleet was all male; apart from the season, they mostly ignored the sex difference.

The next part was about the lizards' homeworld itself. There was a model of Tau Ceti, with its planets lined up on it. "The planet of the Race is outside what we consider the habitable zone for planets." Clarke stated. "We believed that a planet so close would be unsuitable and too hot for life, but we're beginning to understand more."

"How can it be so close to its star and have life?" A German Colonel asked. Andrei gave him a brief death glare. The Great Patriotic War had been over for 37 years, but his hatred for them had not dimmed one bit since then. He gave a guilty look at Andrei's glare.

"We were assuming that a habitable planet would be like Earth, with oceans equal to or greater than theirs." Issac Asimov informed them. "However, Home is a desert planet, in addition to the two other planets that the Race has already conquered during its long history. The British were kind enough to lend us one of their planetologists who believes that the reason their planet is still habitable is because of its lack of water, allowing it to avoid a runaway greenhouse effect that would happen to an Earth-like planet in a similar position."

"And Tau Ceti is a smaller and less luminous star than our own." Heinlein added. "According to the Race and our own estimates, it has 78% of our Sun's mass and 51.8% of our luminosity. We would not originally have considered such a planet habitable, but the truth is right in front of us."

The next slide was a photo of Home and Andrei was amazed at how different it was from Earth. He was used to seeing massive oceans, but here, there were only a few large lakes and seas scattered around the surface. Much of it was desert, and from the information, the lizard's planet was on average much warmer.

"Due to the planet's smaller tilt, the seasons vary considerably less than here." Heinlein explained. "Its record temperature is 65 degrees C, only slightly higher than our 56.7 C record. However, its lower temperature are very different, with it only being -25 degrees C, 64 degrees hotter than our own record temperatures."

"With a 15 degree axial tilt and approximately 2.38 Earth Masses, we did not consider it a candidate for life, even if its atmosphere is similar to our own, except for being a little thicker." Clarke added. "That, and very little water vapor; only 6.8% of the surface is covered by water."

"Seems more like Arrakis than Earth." Andrei heard someone whisper behind him. He knew little of science fiction, but he had read the novel "Dune", which made him familiar with the fictional planet. From what he remembered of the book, the comparison was rather apt. _This planet's nearly impossible to live on for them! Why would they choose Earth? _He couldn't help but wonder.

The writers mentioned that the lizard's home had 33 percent higher gravity, even though the planet was nearly 2.7 times more massive. Their moon was also much larger than Earth's nearly the size of Mercury, orbiting approximately three million kilometers away. "At least we can take advantage of the fact that the lizards cannot stand cold weather." Ludmila whispered. She was correct; considering their biology, they made a grave mistake invading the Soviet Union.

The presentation began to finish up, with questions from the audience, primarily about why the lizards advanced so slowly compared to humans. "As for now, we have no concrete reason as to why." Clarke declared. "It's a common trope for science fiction that we advance far more quickly than any other life form, but in this case, it appears to be true. The main hypothesis right now are that the planet is united under a single government and thus there is no need for technological advances and compete with regional neighbors. The second is that even with their advanced technology, their society is essentially feudal and allows little or no innovation."

"Can we do anything for their subject races?" Robinson asked. "The lizards have held them down for thousands of years; we should free them from their grasp as soon as we have the opportunity."

"The Rabotevs and Hallessi are as loyal to the Emperor as the Race is." Heinlein replied. "On a personal level, I agree with you, but we are in no position to assist them. We need to worry about ourselves first right now. Once we've beaten them, we'll see what can be done."

The writers mentioned that the Rabotevs home was around 61 Cygni A and was 1.3 earth masses, but thanks to its lower density and large radius, the gravity was only 2.4% higher than on Earth. The Halessi were orbiting around 82 G Eridani, another star similar to the sun. Andrei cared little where they came from; all he was interested in was how to beat them.

Once the presentation was over, he and Ludmila left the room and retreated to their usual quarters. _Still, I can't help but be a little interested in what they just told us. _Andrei thought. The lizards were not capitalists, not in the human sense of the term. They were far more like the ancient economic systems, with masters and slaves. If their development was as slow as it now seemed... that boded badly for them.

After Brezhnev's death, there had been a power struggle among the veterans of the Communist Party. Fortunately, all of them a least realized that it was secondary to the struggle against the lizards and did nothing so extreme to sabotage their rivals. Andrei was slightly surprised, even though he would never say a word to that effect in public.

It also meant that his petition for reassignment was going to be completely ignored for the foreseeable future, until a new General Secretary had been chosen. With his knowledge of Soviet efficiency, it was likely that it would be buried in papers, never to be found by another living being.

As much as he wanted to be on the front, Andrei still served the Soviet Union well. He was doing everything he could to keep India in the orbit of the Soviet Union, although his success there had been limited. Even during an alien invasion, the superpowers were still playing their usual political games. And they played it well, that much he would give them. The irony of the west sending military advisers to Vietnam to aid their former enemies did not escape them. The Soviets tried the same thing in Afghanistan, only to see them all killed by the people they were supposedly attempting to help.

_We'll make them pay once this war is over, _Andrei promised; he looked forward to it. They could never lose to such foolish, primitive people, certainly not ones as primitive as the Afghans.

A phone call shook him out of his thoughts. Andrei needed a moment to realize that it was the red phone, the one that gave him direct communication with Moscow. Whatever it was, it had to be extremely important. "Hello?" Andrei asked simply, unsure as to who it was.

"I just received your latest request for a transfer back to your old division." A familiar voice stated on the other line.

"Comrade, what can I do for you?" Andrei asked, doubting that this call could be solely about his frequent petitions. Andropov was one of the more senior members of the party, and from what he knew about the politics, considered a moderate by many.

"First of all, I can say that your petition has been denied." Yuri Andropov replied. "And it's Comrade General Secretary now; the news will be made public in a few days. I trust you can keep it quiet until then."

"Of... of course, Comrade General Secretary." Andrei replied. Ludmila left the room and shut the door. He was positive that no efforts to tap the line had been successful; his NKVD entourage, however much he disliked them, were very good at what they did. "You may rely on my discretion."

"However much you may want to return to the front, you are serving the Soviet Union here just as competently and I do not want to replace you with someone less experienced." Andropov said politely, but it was an order all the same. Andrei gave a mental sigh; he'd do everything he can in Iceland, then.

"So how can I assist you, Comrade General Secretary?" Andrei wondered.

Andropov waited a few moments before replying. "I need to know how the counterattacks in the other nations are progressing. Do we have a real chance to throw the Race off our soil this year or will this be a long struggle?"

Andrei wondered why he was asking this of him, especially since he had many other advisers and analysts giving him information, but he would still reply. "I believe that this will be a long struggle. Their emperor has ordered them to conquer Earth, which is to them as if God came down to us and told us to conquer another planet. They obey in ways that would put even devout Christians to shame." He was mentioning a God he technically wasn't supposed to believe in, but religious restrictions were much more relaxed than when he was younger.

"I was afraid of that." Andropov responded. "You aren't the only one to say so, either. A minority view is that victory will soon be ours, but I believe otherwise. They are much less dangerous to us than the Germans were, but just as determined. Stay in Iceland; learn everything you can about our enemy." The last word meant both the lizards and the West.

"I serve the Soviet Union." Andrei responded, disappointed. He was hoping that his opinion would be on the fringe, but that wasn't the case. As a whole, Russians tended to be cynical people, so the news did not surprise him. "I will learn everything possible."

"I expect nothing less from you," Andropov declared and hung up.

How determined would the Race be? Would they be willing to fight even after massive losses? The worst case scenario was that they would fight to the death, even when they realized it would be impossible to conquer Earth. He wrote a note to research that possibility and possible methods of discouraging the lizards from taking that path.

XXXXXXXXXX

December 13, 1982:

"That's the stuff..." Wuppah hissed as he took another taste of ginger, his third one today. He had very nearly caved earlier, but decided to wait until after the mission they flew to do so. Much as he enjoyed the herb, he didn't want to go into combat drugged. Vicious as the Big Uglies were, they were far from stupid. He was smart enough to realize that if he believed that no enemy could ever harm him, he was likely to end up dead.

He kept quiet, at least at best as he was able. Ginger made him restless, made him want to go into combat, but Wuppah had been flying nonstop for two days and all his other squadmales were utterly exhausted. Even the drug did not hide his exhaustion entirely. _I could take down a hundred Big Uglies right now! _Wuppah thought triumphantly. He paced through the barracks, wishing that he could go into action once more.

Most of them were snoring and even in his ginger-induced haze, Wuppah was careful not to wake any of them up. Ginger was highly illegal and if someone spotted him so restless, they might wonder what was going on, especially since by all right, he should be sleeping like everyone else.

Ginger didn't just raise you, though; it dropped you... hard. Depression threatened to overwhelm him, feeling as real as the ecstasy Ginger brought him. "Get yourself together, by the Emperor." He hissed to himself, briefly dropping his eye turrets. He was not inside a killercraft and thus, the ritual respect put him in no danger.

It was times like these when he wished he never tried the herb in the first place. Wuppah knew it was a moment of weakness that allowed it to get its fingerclaws inside him, but doubted his superiors would be in the least sympathetic if they caught him as a ginger user. True, they couldn't afford to keep him off duty for long, not with the conquest killing so many males, but they would find him an extremely unpleasant and likely short-lived duty.

Wuppah turned his eye turrets towards Dresn, glaring at him furiously. He was apparently one of the top ginger dealers at the base, even if he did not use the herb himself. Ginger had also made him quite wealthy, which he cunningly hid in multiple concealed accounts. He sometimes thought about turning him in, even if he would get in trouble as well, but even if he was a dealer, he was an excellent pilot and a fellow squadmale, so his mouth stayed shut.

That, and he kept his word. Dresn was a cheap source of ginger, and Wuppah had nothing else to spend his pay on, so why not? He nearly reached for another taste, but he would soon be in-flight again and with the drug worn off, his exhaustion began to overtake him. He laid down on his cot and fell asleep almost immediately.

The next thing he knew, Ristin and Chook were pulling him out of his bed. "You must get up!" Ristin insisted. "We are nearly late!"

Wearily, he got off his bunk and put on his flight suit, which unlike many suits the Race brought to Tosev 3, was very insulated, protecting him from the elements. In the USSR, that was doubly important. Even with the clothing and the fight suit, however, he felt cold. Snow was extremely rare on Home outside of the poles, but was disturbingly common on Tosev 3. The natives could shiver to keep themselves warm, but the Race did not have that ability.

He made all the standard checks before taking off, while the technicians made one last search of his killercraft to ensure that there was nothing wrong. When they were satisfied, Wuppah rocketed into the air, hoping that his relative lack of sleep would not impair his reflexes. Air travel was getting more dangerous by the day.

During the counterattack, the Big Uglies revealed a considerable killercraft reserve. The Race believed that all or most of their killercraft were shot down or destroyed on the ground during the initial fighting. While many were, the Big Uglies hid their remaining craft and allowed their anti-air defenses to wear the Race down. Although they had suffered dearly for that tactic, it was beginning to prove itself effective.

None of them had been spotted near their base in the Southern USSR, but reports were becoming increasingly alarmed. "So what is our target?" Wuppah asked.

"We'll be coming up on it in approximately ten minutes." Chook informed.

"That soon?" Dresn responded. "The Big Uglies are really getting bold, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid so." Ristin hissed. "The sooner we kill them, the happier off I'll be."

_The sooner we're done, the sooner I can taste ginger. _Wuppah thought. He was already feeling jittery and depressed without it. He worked extra hard to keep his body paint looking like new so none of his superiors suspected anything. Several flightmales had already been caught and taken from the base, with the statement that their punishment would be severe.

Anti-air missiles announced that the fight was about to begin. Wuppah launched two air-to-ground missiles on two targets, knowing that they had to make sure the bombers got through to destroy whatever fortifications the USSR had set up. Each craft had only ten missiles instead of eighteen now, their ammunition having to be carefully rationed. They were supposed to be building new ones from Tosevite factories, with Race technicians of the Race building the more advanced electronics on them.

The bombers dropped their entire load, but one of them was shot down just as it did so, crashing into Tosev 3. With luck, the crew would never have known what hit them.

"They are with the emperors now," Dresn whispered. Wuppah found it amazing that a ginger dealer could still have so much respect for their sovereign.

"Are there any enemy killercraft coming our way?" Wuppah inquired, checking his radar to make sure. He had rumors of Tosevite killercraft that could conceal themselves from radar, but so far, that had been confined to the United States alone.

"No, I don't see any." Chook responded, somewhat reassuring the others. With the Big Uglies, though, you could never tell if the USSR or Britain or France or anyone else would start using them. Wuppah blew up three of their landcruisers, but was now out of air-to-ground missiles.

Another killercraft was destroyed, the pilot vaporized. Wuppah winced; that could just as easily have been him. Out of 100 craft, only two were destroyed, making it, as a whole, an inexpensive attack. Their base and vehicles had been destroyed, along with a large number of casualties. _If only it was always that easy. _The closer his mission was to completion, the more he craved ginger. The fact it was so close made him want it all the more.

Suddenly, they spotted enemy killercraft headed in their direction. The Race had destroyed every enemy air base they could find, but the Soviets were experts at camouflage and concealment. What Wuppah saw horrified him; they were outnumbered. "Can the remaining killercraft get here in time?" Wuppah asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Provided that the technician move faster than what is considered acceptable, yes." Chook replied.

"Doesn't matter how many there are; we'll crush them!" One of his fellow flightmales exclaimed with jubilation. Wuppah was almost certain that he was a ginger taster. He had enough restraint not to taste on missions; the same could not be said for others.

"Get into standard formation; they will be within maximum range within minutes, but do not fire until optimal range." The overall commander Yts ordered. "We do not have so many missiles as to risk a single one being wasted."

_What about the ones lost when we ending up being shot down because they fire first? _Wuppah thought to himself. If he was in imminent danger, he'd launch everything, hopefully taking some of the Big Uglies with him. He knew how fortunate he had been to survive the first time he had been shot down. Having it occur a second time was highly unlikely.

When they got to within 40 Tlocks, Wuppah launched his long-range missile. The others attached to his craft were unable to travel so far, but even one enemy killercraft shot down would help. Others had the same idea, wanting to kill them at long-range.

If anything, they had more effect that Wuppah dared hope. While not up to the Race's standard, the Tosevite jamming was still formidable, but 2/3rds of the missiles hit their targets, a much higher ratio that most air-to-air fighting. "Take that, Big Uglies!" Dresn cheered.

Despite the heavy losses, the Big Uglies kept coming; Wuppah expected nothing less. He stopped flying in a straight line in order to make himself as difficult a target as possible. One thing he did have was maneuverability, since Home had stronger gravity than Tosev 3. The Big Uglies were firing the first of their missiles now, taking down two killercraft. One pilot managed to bail out; the other was killed.

The actual fighting was only just beginning, however. Once they were within 20 Tlocks of one another, hundreds of missiles were fired at once, from both sides. Wuppah went into full evasive action when his equipment detected two headed directly for his killercraft. One was dodged, while the other was evaded by flares.

Killercraft on both sides were being destroyed left and right. There was no restraint; pilots fired whatever they had, believing that the missiles were better off used than destroyed. Wuppah could hear the screams of the dying through his communications, and prayed to the emperor that he would not be one of them.

If not for the friend-or-foe radar, he would never have been able to tell which was which. There were hundreds of killercraft flying at top speed. A couple were even within visual range and thus, unable to evade his missiles in time. Dresn fired his last two at a single target, succeeding in his goal but also leaving him quite vulnerable.

The enemy became close enough that Wuppah was actually able to use his guns to down the Tosevite craft. However, he had only enough bullets for twenty seconds of continuous fire, so he had to wait for the exact moment. He only barely managed to fire his flares before he would have been killed, less than half a second. Being so close to meeting the emperors badly chilled him, even if he would have gladly served them in death as he did in life.

He let loose with his guns, firing for ten seconds. The pilot had time to parachute out, but his killercraft was ruined. Wuppah intended to finish him off, only to be distracted by another enemy. He barrel rolled to the left, diving down to avoid the bullet stream. He had only a single missile left, and did not intend to use it unless absolutely necessary.

It turned out that it wasn't necessary. Chook saw that he was in trouble and blew the enemy out of the sky, very possibly saving Wuppah's life. The dogfights had only lasted a matter of minutes, but it was already beginning to die down. Ristin had been shot down, although he succeeded in escaping his killercraft.

The Tosevites began to retreat. Wuppah wanted to wipe them out, but they were severely depleted of ammunition and none of them could be sure that they were not walking into another trap. The Big Uglies were very good at pretending they were beaten, only to stage another ambush. Did the Race win or the Big Uglies?

Once he landed again, the first thing he did was go back to his barracks and take another taste of ginger. Wuppah felt all his problems disappear, and victory was certain. The small part of his mind that was still rational reminded him that this feeling was only temporary. He worried at times about being caught, but the Big Uglies were a much more pressing concern.

Wuppah took a second taste as soon as he finished the first, feeling content even on this miserable, hate-filled iceball of a planet.

XXXXXXXXXX

December 16, 1982:

"Fire and move! Fire and move!" Alexis screamed at his men, but he could barely hear the sound of his own voice through the fighting. Fortunately, his squad was taking his advice to heart, even if they were far less adept at it than he was.

The Allied army had completely surrounded Orleans, trapping the lizard defenders within the city. His superiors decided to surround the city instead of trying to take it, both to keep the imitative and to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. Too many had already died in the invasion and the nuclear strikes and public opinion was highly against losing more. It was hoped that the lizards would eventually surrender.

As a whole, though, this was little more than a skirmish in the grand scheme of things. Alexis took cover behind a boulder, making sure to keep a close eye on his squad. Whether they lived or died depended a lot on what he did to keep them safe.

The Allied forces had knowledge of the territory, and the lizards had become overextended. However, superior technology and determination partially made up for their disadvantage. His squad was abruptly brought to a halt when an APC was spotted and none of them had anti-vehicle weapons. Their only recourse was to hide and not draw attention to themselves until it was either destroyed or drove away.

"So what now?" Fernand wondered. A brief smell informed Alexis that he had soiled himself, but there were far more important things to worry about at the moment.

"We appear to be stuck here." Lucien pointed out.

"Just wait and don't draw attention to yourselves." Alexis snapped at them. Machine gun fire and grenades continued in every direction. Fortunately, he could tell the difference between the sounds of the two sides and they were slowly advancing, although not without heavy casualties.

Eventually, the APC and its escorts moved on, not noticing the squad that were only twenty-five meters away. "Ok, we've still got a job to do." Alexis ordered. "This fight isn't over yet! We're going to send these sons of bitches back to the planet they belong to!" Absently, he realized that he had no idea where the lizards came from, but it didn't really matter, so long as they were driven off of Earth.

Each group had split off into smaller and smaller formations as the skirmish wore on. Alexis led his troops through the grasslands, staying as low as possible. He sniped one 150 yards away that had not taken sufficient cover. Even if the lizard wasn't dead, he'd be out of action for a long time. He threw a grenade just to make sure he didn't have any of his buddies with him.

An enemy machine gun fired off in the distance. "We're taking them down; stay calm, stay alert, and follow me." Alexis ordered. They could kill an entire platoon of their men if they weren't stopped, which was exactly what he intended to do. Fortunately, there was ample cover, but that also provided protection to the enemy as well as his own men.

One of his squad members was hit in the leg and screamed. "Medic!" Alexis bellowed, but knew it was no use. If they were going to save him, they would have to do it here and now. "Grab his arms; let me take a look at his wound!" Lucian rushed to obey, while the other four stayed on watch.

Alexis hated what he saw. The bullet had gone right through Corin's thigh and a rapid pool of blood was forming. He stuck a needle of morphine in his leg, hoping that it would at least dull the pain. Alexis applied the antiseptic and wrapped the bandages as tightly as he could, putting pressure on the wound, which was bleeding out from both sides. "Keep pressure here!" He pointed to the back of Corin's leg.

Unfortunately, the bullet had severed his femoral artery, causing him to bleed to death within a few minutes. Alexis cursed to himself, feeling guilty that he couldn't protect him. He knew he shouldn't; it was a risk all of them had taken when he signed up, but the sentiment was there nonetheless. He had gotten used to seeing death all around him, so much so that he wondered if he would ever fit into the civilian world again.

But he couldn't grieve long. The machine gun was hunting them down, firing bullets wherever their crew thought his squad was hiding. _No rocks to hide behind, even. _Alexis sighed. Those bullets could penetrate any tree in the forest, so at best it offered them concealment. "What do we do now?" Lucien asked, looking to be on the edge of terror.

"Wait for an opportunity; split into two groups." Alexis ordered. "I'll try to keep its attention on me. We advance... cautiously, but we advance. Snipe them if you can." He and Fernand moved first to the right, firing at they moved, swiftly dropping to the ground to avoid retaliation. This was a big risk and he knew it; troops attempting to eliminate a machine gun crew without artillery or snipers were almost always killed during World War I, but they'd be dead anyway if they didn't try.

They zigzagged around the wildlife until they were within 40 meters, but even there, neither of them had a clear shot. Alexis fired anyway, believing that they could at least make them keep their heads down. Ferdand threw two grenades and both of them could swear that they heard a cry of pain, although it was difficult to tell through all the chaos.

As it turned out, it was only a single male, something Alexis had difficulty believing. _Guess alien technology has its advantages. _Alexis thought. He fired the rest of his clip, then dived and reloaded. He had only two left and knew his ammunition had to be used sparingly. Lucien ultimately stuck the fatal blow, however. The machine gun stopped chattering, meaning that the tactic work, much to his surprise..

"We'll take it with us; R&D will be quite interested in this thing." Alexis declared. The lizard wasn't quite dead yet, however, though it was clear nothing was going to save him. He put a bullet through his skull as a mercy kill.

"Doesn't look so tough from here, does he?" Ferdand remarked.

"No, no, he doesn't." Alexis wondered who this lizard was. Did he have a family that did not yet know that he was never coming home? Did he wonder what they were fighting for? What did the lizard believe in? Many questions, none of which he could answer. "One less lizard to deal with, at least."

They won the skirmish, but lost the battle as the lizards brought in their helicopters to saturate the area with rockets and bombs. Alexis was forced to retreat two kilometers to the northwest where they halted the lizard counterattack. Even if they lost, he knew that their losses could not be replaced. "Not that it's easy for us, either." Alexis muttered, thinking of poor Corin. The boy was barely twenty, far too young to die like that.

"Sir... how do you get used to this?" Ferdand asked. "I'm so frightened, I can barely hold a gun straight."

"You never do, not really." Alexis shook his head. "You just learn not to let the fear master you. All it takes is practice." Skirmishing continued into the night, but neither side made a serious attempt to advance on the other. Nevertheless, he was unable to sleep, guilt still eating at him. It was not the first person he'd lost, but Corin was the first who died under his command; he was unlikely to be the last, as unpleasant as that sounded.

XXXXXXXXXX

December 20, 1982:

Once again, Atvar viewed the Tosevite images from the probe that the Race had sent 1,680 years ago (Half as many years by Tosev 3's perspective) This was the best warrior that they expected to face, the most advanced technology on this planet at the time. "If only it was this simple," Atvar hissed.

"Truth, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel agreed.

He knew it was foolish, looking at this image every few days, but he couldn't help himself. Atvar would much rather have imagined it than what their current military situation was. Much to their misfortune, their most formidable opponents were also areas that grew intolerable to the Race during the winter and the Big Uglies were taking full advantage of it.

Their advance was slow at first, but over the past week, had gained a great deal of momentum. Atvar changed the hologram to the numerous explosive-metal bombs that had already been used. This one was the only one that got through and hit Paris, but it could just as easily been Newport News, Philadelphia, or the Big Ugly weapons that had destroyed their starships on the ground.

"We've lost a quarter of our tactical weapons." Atvar sighed. Twenty-five of their explosive-metal bombs had been destroyed, meaning that their stockpile was constantly shrinking.

"Truth, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel replied. "You gave the order to spread the remaining bombs on more of our starships and keeping those possessing them in orbit, which solves the problem."

"Perhaps, but what we have now is quite bad enough." Atvar admitted. He wasn't entirely confident that the Big Uglies were incapable of hitting them in orbit. Straha had raised a very similar concern and as much as he disliked his rival, he couldn't help but think that he had merit.

He changed the hologram again to a map of Tosev 3, with the conquered areas in red. The Southern half of China, much of India and Pakistan, Southeast Asia, Mexico and the Southwestern United states, Eastern Europe and large parts of the Soviet Union, along with Italy, Spain, Eastern Germany, Southern France, and what the natives called the great Lakes Region in the United States. "We can be proud of our successes thus far, considering what we are up against." Kirel stated.

"By the emperor, even the regions we've supposedly conquered have not yet been pacified." Atvar was in no mood to celebrate. By this time, most believed that Tosev 3 would belong to the Emperor. It was the whole reason he rebalanced his forces to face only the northern hemisphere, but even with the knowledge of their technology, he did not foresee the difficulty. He thought using explosive-metal bombs would terrorize them into submission, but if anything, it was only making the Big Uglies fight harder.

"It's not as bad as all that, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel responded, trying to look on the positive side. "We have wrecked much of their industry, and our weapons are still superior to theirs. Their equipment, like ours, is complex and takes time to manufacture in great numbers."

"I hope you're right," was all Atvar would say in response. His subordinate was right; much of their industry was wrecked, along with as many hydrocarbon fields that they could hunt down. It would slow down their production, but he was beginning to realize just how big a planet really was. He lacked the munitions to do everything he wanted, and it became an even bigger problem when 3 of their factory ships were destroyed.

"Exalted Fleetlord, the Soviet representative as arrived." Pshing walked into to inform.

"I will be with him shortly." Atvar declared, although he would much rather have shot him and thrown out the airlock. The USSR had come into power by murdering their emperor, something he did his best to shove out of his mind. It would not help matters if he bit him to death.

After taking one last look at the hologram, he skittered out of the room and summoned an interpreter that could speak Russian. Two guards escorted the representative to ensure that he did not wander the ship and see anything he wasn't supposed to.

Andrei Gromyko, however, seemed content to simply sit where he was. Atvar did his best to read his emotions, but his skill was far from perfect. As best he could tell, the man showed little more than a minor annoyance.

"Tell him I greet him in the name of the emperor and ask why he has requested a meeting." Atvar ordered his interpreter. He wanted this over with as quickly as possible.

"I have been instructed by my government to negotiate a No First Use policy." Gromyko said simply, looking at Atvar with experienced eyes. Gromyko's interpreter was less adapt at concealing what he thought and looked worried.

Atvar knew that this would not be a surrender, not with the Soviet Union advancing in Siberia and pushing the Race's forces from Moscow. "What do you mean, a No First Use policy?" He asked, deciding to get to the heart of the matter.

"I am here to tell you that we will not resort to nuclear weapons unless your forces use them on us first." Gromyko informed him. Atvar could have been imagining things, but he thought the Tosevite looked unhappy at that news. "If, however, you resort to them, we will take any measures necessary to defend the Rodina."

_Just what I suspected, _Atvar thought. Even his most optimistic intelligence reports warned that the Soviet Union still had plenty of explosive-metal bombs remaining. Most of their land-based missiles had been destroyed, but their submarines were still intact. In the entire conquest, the Race had only succeeded in destroying one and they didn't even know which not-empire we belong to.

"The Race is going to win this war, and if you think you can threaten us, you are badly mistaken." Atvar warned. Deep down, however, he wasn't as sure as he was when the conquest began.

"Your obstinacy will get you nothing, and your men will pay a price for it." Gromyko warned. "We are far more advanced than your probe led us to believe and your men too few and too primitive to successfully hold us down, even if, by some miracle, you conquer all our territory. Negotiate a cease-fire and we can set some land aside for you."

Negotiate with Big Uglies? Atvar trembled in anger at the thought and at Gromyko's arrogance. "We will not surrender to your whims, Tosevite." He hissed at him. "As you came into power by murdering your emperor, be grateful we have not reduced your not-empire to radioactive ruin." That was bluff; the Race did not have anywhere near the number of explosive-metal bombs for that, as tempting as the action was. However, the Tosevites did not know their supply... or so he devoutly hoped.

"The destruction would be mutual." Gromyko warned, but his annoyance subsided. "Is there anything else we wish to discuss?"

"If you refuse to give in, it will only be harder for your not-empire." Atvar gave his final words. Gromyko got to his feet, he and his interpreter walking out.

The other meetings went the same way. Even not-empires close to being conquered, like France and Germany, refused to stop fighting and accept the emperor's sovereignty. Atvar warned dearly to bite them. They had lost 1.3 million males so far, with hundreds of thousands of wounded in tents at any given time. If not for their excellent medical care, the conquest would be even more difficult.

"The negotiations did not go as we hoped, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel hissed by his side.

"How, by the emperor, could they be putting up such a formidable resistance?" Atvar sighed.

"Little land of the USSR is suitable for our colonists due to its weather, exalted fleetlord." Kirel suggested. "We could do as you threatened and wipe them out."

"No, we cannot." Atvar made the negative hand gesture. "Even if we did, our males would be on the receiving end. The Big Uglies have a term for this: Mutually Assured Destruction. We still do not know how many weapons they have remaining, and the other not-empires would likely join in." It was now all but certain that they would lose significant ground during the winter of Tosev 3. Much of their industry was in ruins, but the Race's production facilities were all but nil.

"Then perhaps we can implement the suggestion you were given earlier." Kirel pointed out, staying subordinate.

"Yes... perhaps that is the thing to do." Atvar nodded. "You mean the skelkwank batteries, correct?" Kirel made the affirmative hand gestures. "This does seem to be Straha's time for being right. He seems to understand the Big Uglies better than most. How many do we have in our possession?"

Kirel ran the computer check. "We have 25 batteries ready and operational, Exalted Fleetlord."

"Too few and untested in combat." Atvar sighed. The 37th Emperor Risson had come into power just half a year before the fleet left for Tosev 3 and ordered the prototypes to be shipped with them. The weapons were promising in their tests and were expected to be implemented within 200 years. Instead, the emperor ordered them to be used ahead of schedule.

"Exalted Fleetlord, the Big Uglies have launched another attack on our bases!" Pshing exclaimed in horror. From his tone, Atvar surmised that it involved explosive-metal bombs. "They've launched two missiles from their boats, and will reach their destination in one day-hundredth."

"That gives us little time; do everything possible to shoot them down." Atvar ordered, but knew his males were already doing so. He prayed to the emperor that they were eliminated before thousands of lives were lost. From the trajectory, the missiles were aimed at bases in North Africa, which the Race had conquered but not yet pacified. He saw the missiles on the screen and prayed they would be shot down.

The first of the missiles were intercepted before it could be armed. Atvar let out a deep breath of relief. The second missile followed a couple of minutes later. "Thank the emperor they were destroyed." Atvar hissed. "Their boats are almost impossible to shoot down and it makes it difficult to identify which not-empire fired explosive-metal bombs at us."

"Exalted Fleetlord..." Kirel pointed at the holoscreen. Atvar spotted a couple of small objects still in the air. At first, he thought they were large pieces of debris from the explosion. Only too late did he realize that they were separate warheads. "Three explosive-metal bombs on a single missile? Impossible!" And yet the impossible was happening. Both bombs hit their base in eastern Algeria, well away from any major cities, but a few Big Uglies were still within the range of fallout.

"Thousands died; dozens of killercraft destroyed, and we don't even know who was responsible!" Atvar screamed. The stress of the conquest was beginning to rattle him. It seemed to be nothing more than one disaster after another. "Find a Big Ugly fleet; we will have our vengeance!'

"There is a fleet in what the natives call the Indian Ocean; two of them are the ones that carry their killercraft." Kirel informed.

"Yes, that would make a suitable target; teach them that we will not be slaughtered with impunity." Atvar snapped. Now he began to see the merit of the Skelkwank defenses. _Perhaps we have a chance at a successful conquest after all, maybe our only chance _He thought. Based on what he saw, the batteries would be able to repel numerous such attacks. "Begin their installation, and do so as quickly as possible so that such disasters will not happen to us again.

"It shall be done, Exalted Fleetlord." Kirel bowed.

XXXXXXXXX

That'll certainly complicate things. If we could just nuke the Race into oblivion, it wouldn't be a very interesting story.

In case anyone is wondering why I switched the homeworlds of the Rabotevs and Halessi, the Epsilon Eridani and Epsilon Indi are barely a billion years old, too young to develop complex life, so I changed them to what you saw earlier in the text.


	13. Chapter 13

I've had a couple of questions about why we don't simply nuke the lizards into oblivion. For one thing, we'd mostly be dropping nuclear weapons on our own territory, something that we'd like to avoid as much as possible. Secondly, we don't know how many weapons the aliens have and how strongly they could respond in kind. That being said, there are some commanders in both the United States and Soviet Union that are pushing to do so and they'll only grow more influential as the war drags on.

XXXXXXXXXX

January 3, 1983:

Barzini was feeling restless, something he had grown accustomed to during his time as a prisoner of the Race. He simply sat in his cell most of the key once his injuries began to heal. He still walked with a limp and his shoulder was still in a lot of pain, but was in far better condition than when he first arrived.

_They aren't quite what I expected, either. _He had heard countless horror stories of what the lizards did to people they captured or cities they occupied. Barzini was smart enough not to believe everything he heard, but had seen too many atrocities, both before and during their invasion, to dismiss them out of hand.

The food was plain and boring, but there was plenty of it. To a man who had spent the last few years on a near-starvation diet, it was wonderful. "Strange how aliens from another world treat us better than Saddam ever did." Barzini mouthed to himself. It was much better than he had expected. He knew better than to say that out loud, however. There were many Iraqi soldiers with him and while many fought for Iraq, not its leader, some in there were still among his supporters. He stayed quiet.

"Always goes to show you learn things your entire life." Reuven spoke. He couldn't hear Barzini, but read him well enough to know what he was thinking. His original wound had healed, but there was a new scar along his upper leg. The instant Barzini eyed it, he explained: "Someone in here tried to kill me; a rather sloppy attempt, really." From his tone, he might as well have been talking about the weather, chilling Barzini slightly.

"Nice work," Barzini responded, more out of something to say than actual interest. The lizards made no distinction between Iraqi, Iranian, and Kurdish prisoner, putting them all in the same spot. Fights had broken out multiple times, with hundreds of injuries and dozens of deaths. The lizards made a half-hearted attempt to prevent them, but otherwise let the prisoners kill one another. The more infighting they saw, the bigger their advantage grew.

He tried to remember that, however much he wanted to join in on the action. _Not until the war is over; then we can take vengeance. _What made it almost irresistible was that Saddam's army was still much stronger than the Peshmerga, even with their new weapons supplies. Once the war resumed, they were likely to be on the losing side. Iran mostly used them as a tool, but had little love for Kurds as well.

"It's necessary, nothing more." Reuven shrugged.

"Thank Allah I'm not in your position." For some, Barzini would worry about saying that out loud, but not with him. He was a foreigner, albeit one that forced him to change some of his thinking. He was brave, did his duty without complaint and did his best to keep his comrades alive, even when they didn't like him much.

"Being the only Jew in this place does have certain disadvantages." Reuven admitted. "I'm used to sleeping with one eye open, though." He spent most of his time with the Kurds, whom while they didn't like him, were much less likely to attempt an assassination. At the least, they considered his advice to be a useful tool for if they ever got out of this place.

He gave his usual prayers for the day, trying to follow Allah's will as closely as he could. Barzini sometimes did not have the opportunity, something that would have horrified a truly devout Muslim, but he didn't follow the Koran as closely as he did before the war, though he promised to Allah that he would resume in peacetime.

It was lunchtime and he readied himself for a possible fight. Barzini looked carefully at his Iranian and especially his Iraqi counterparts, promising to himself that he would not be taken by surprise. So far, he had not been involved and he intended to keep it that way. Appearing as dangerous as he could helped deter attacks, but inwardly, he wanted to scream at everyone.

"The lizards just love this, don't they/" Reuven chuckled as they began to line up for their meal. "Of course, we're always just a pack of barbarians to them, and this only proves it to them." What barbarians meant came through context to Barzini.

Mealtime was when most of the fights had broken out. Lizards stood against the wall, rifles ready in case of any trouble. They only intervened in major scuffles, but everyone who had attempted to kill them in the confusion ended up dead for his trouble. Barzini looked for a way to take them down. He wouldn't mind dying as much if he could take a couple lizards with him, but he saw no way to do it as of yet.

"Think you could send a couple lizards to the afterlife?" He whispered to Reuven.

"Perhaps at some point, but not now." Reuven responded, pretending not to notice many of the prisoners staring at him. While he was still despised, the fact he had killed everyone who attempted to assassinate him meant that he had also earned respect, however grudging. "See how they stay around this room, where each group can cover the other? And they keep us more than eight meters away at all times? They're not stupid, whatever else you can say of them."

Barzini received his daily food, still watching in every direction. If an confrontation was going to happen, this would be the moment. Usually, the Kurds, Iranians, and Iraqis stayed in their own groups, not speaking with one another. On meal time, however, they were forced together, and fights were frequent. In his pocket, he had carved a small knife from a long, sharpened stone with a cloth handle on it. Anyone who attacked him would regret it.

This time, however, Allah apparently decided to spare them. There was much grumbling between sides, insults thrown at one another, even rude finger gestures, but nobody started fighting. No food was thrown; no individual from a poor country would waste such a precious commodity. Barzini was far from the only one carrying an improvised weapon; Reuven even had a metal switchblade that he smuggled in from the outside.

The lizards used human guards to do some of the more mundane work in running a prison that they believed was beneath their superior status. Many of them were working for the resistance and others could be bribed to allow weapons in. No guns or explosives; that the lizards did themselves, but apparently knives were considered beneath their notice. Barzini considered it an unacceptable slip, but was grateful they overlooked.

"I don't think its stupidity; machines only get you so far and they don't have enough manpower to do everything they need." Reuven explained. "Most of their males are on the front lines or in supply duties; they simply don't have enough to do the job. They're trying to take over an entire planet... half a planet right now, at least. That's billions of people and millions of soldiers they're being forced to fight." He never thought of it like that. Barzini's thoughts seldom extended beyond Iraqi Kurdistan and the struggle for its freedom. Hearing an outside perspective was useful.

He ate every bit of his meal, even if it was not native food. Barzini knew that once he escaped or was exchanged, his rations would be greatly diminished, so he gained as much weight as he could manage. He even grabbed a small piece of food that fell under the table that nobody else saw.

Once that was over, however, there was little to do, unless he was called in for questioning. Barzini kept his mind for the most part, even with their truth drugs. He spoke freely about what he could get away with, but he knew little of the overall strategy and those of his comrades who were not already dead were sensible enough to scatter and regroup, so there was no danger there.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Barzini sighed, feeling restless. He had nothing to do when on his bunk; he did not even have a copy of the Koran to read. The aliens saw no value in the book and did not include, which came close to torture for some of the more devout inmates.

"I've got a few plans." Reuven admitted. "The problem is that none of them can work, not unless the lizards guarding us are exceptionally foolish and even then, it's a dubious proposition."

"Wonderful; we're stuck here." He was so unhappy, he came close to using the name of Allah in vein.

"Cheer up; we're at least safe here and we're being fed at their expense." Reuven looked at the bright side. "I sympathize with you, but a part of me is glad to be out of combat, even if it is an un-patriotic thing to say."

"There are benefits, but I am useless to the Pershmerga trapped in here." Barzini sighed, realizing that he could be stuck here as long as the war lasted. At the very least, the three groups could work together against a great enemy; that they often couldn't was a symbol as to how deep the hatred went.

"How much of their language do you know?" Reuven inquired.

"A little, mostly their orders." Barzini replied. "Do you think... I could learn it?"

"It's difficult, but not impossible." Reuven instructed. "I picked up some of it from prisoners, from linguists, and what I've learned on my own. You'd be amazed how freely they speak, confident that none of them will understand them. I haven't heard any of them speak in code, even."

"So what have you learned?" Barzini knew he sounded eager, but couldn't help it. Other began to listen in, as they were the ones who respected Reuven the most.

"Not as much as I'd like." Reuven sighed. "A lot of it is still guesswork, but it looks like the war is going favorably for us. Every day, I hear complaints about how many deaths they have suffered, about territory being lost, about endless attacks in areas they control. I cannot be 100% sure on this, but based on admittedly limited information, the overall war is going well."

There were quiet cheers when others heard the news, and louder ones as the news traveled throughout the bunk. The more enthusiastic ones were quickly silenced by the experienced fighters. "I've got a bit of information of my own, Jew." One of them approached and whispered. He used the term to identify, not to scorn. Fortunately for him, Reuven realized as much.

"Go ahead, I'm listening." He responded with mild interest. Barzini heard a few rumors, but nothing more than that. Hope and fear warred within him. In Reuven as well, though he did a much better job at hiding it.

By the time Reuven explained at least what he was willing to disclose, Barzini was beginning to feel hopeful. Those within earshot had their morale increased as well, although all of them knew that the plan carried a great deal of risk. _Still, anything's better than being stuck in this place. _

The only difficulty was that it was likely to take weeks, if not months, and it counted on the lizards' human assistants being either apathetic, working alongside them, or impossibly incompetent. For all its downsides, however, it was at least a plan of action and it gave Barzini a reason to continue the struggle. "You sure you can pull something like this off?" He felt he had to ask Reuven.

"We have a reasonable probability of success, but in all honesty, who knows?" Reuven shrugged. "First rule of warfare is that things go wrong."

"Then why did you tell them this?" Barzini demanded.

"Simple: they needed a message of hope... and we have a chance of pulling this off." Reuven shrugged, not feeling in the least guilty. "I have more details to plan out, so until I do, feel free to gorge yourself at the lizards' expense." Barzini was still not in the least bit fat, but there was some meat for the first time in years, and he was now unable to count his ribs.

As he was left to himself, however, he wondered just how feasible this really was. Not that he objected; after his family was killed, Barzini no longer feared death. He simply didn't want to get killed without accomplishing anything. The lizards looked suspiciously at him, ready to shoot if he gave them the least bit of trouble. He had no intention of doing so... not yet, at least.

That night, as most other prisoners were sound asleep, Barzini stayed awake still going through the possible ideas that Reuven had explained. It relied on outside support, quite a bit of it, being that prisoner exchanges were unlikely. He tried to come up with independent plans, but nothing he could muster up were workable in any realistic scenario.

Loud crashed interrupted his thoughts. It took him a few moments to realize that the prison camp was being shelled. _This can't be the plan! Can it? _He sat up so quickly he bashed his head on one of the upper bunks. Groaning in pain, he got to his feet, his brain scrambling to figure out what to do. This had opportunity, but the artillery could just as easily kill him as it could grant him his freedom.

Most of his fellow prisoners were awake, although not particularly alert. They paid dearly for it when an artillery shell crashed directly onto the room, blowing a massive hole in the wall. Close to a dozen were killed, with over twice as many wounded.

Few stayed behind to help their comrades, however. Most of them rushed out, seeing a chance at freedom, Barzini among them. He felt a twinge of conscience, but they would never have a better chance to flee. He moved as fast as he could, taking advantage of his temporarily improved diet.

The lizards were alert, though, and did everything possible to stop them. Some simply shot them down, while others were more merciful and merely held them at gunpoint and escorted them back to their cells. Even then, however, hundreds of people were making a break for it, with the lizards being unable to pursue unless they wanted to weaken the security of the camp further.

"Praise Allah..." Barzini muttered, taking a deep breath. His lungs had atrophied during his confinement, though he would readjust after being out in the field once more. He decided to head towards his rescuers, wanting to rejoin a guerilla band as soon as possible; he'd do little for the war effort on his own.

Barzini wondered if Reuven made it out or if he was still stuck inside. Likely the latter; the Mossad agent was extremely resourceful. He cautiously approached one of the individuals opening fire on the camp, who were in the process of throwing the mortars aside and retreating. "I'm right here!" He decided to speak in order to inform them that he was human and not a lizard; friendly fire incidents were all too common.

The man turned around and opened fire, shooting Barzini twice in the chest. The last thought in his mind was shock... _What? Why couldn't... _Those were his last coherent thoughts.

XXXXXXXXXX

January 5, 1983:

Betvoss was among the last to retreat. It wasn't the first time his battalion had been forced to, but he never thought such primitive Big Uglies would actually force them to retreat.

What he didn't realize until now was just how numbers could really matter in battle. Yes, the Race killed many more Tosevites than they lost, but it mattered not at all. This not-empire had over a billion Tosevites and would not miss several thousand. They saw it as an acceptable cost for victory.

Betvoss spotted burning landcruisers and troopcarriers; few escaped the vehicles once they had been hit. Although the Chinese had few landcruisers of their own, they were able to obtain weapons that were able to harm them regardless. Mines, rockets, even the occasional killercraft... all of them posed a major hazard.

The last of the Race's troops were out of Shiyan by nightfall, retreating to Xiangyang. They could only hold the major cities when things were going well, but the smaller towns and the countryside were completely out of Race control. Periodic sweeps for weapons and rebels seldom got them anything; no natives would cooperate with them, knowing that they could not be protected from reprisals.

"How did this happen, by the Emperor?" Premas complained, lowering his eye turrets. "We had the Big Uglies cornered, and yet we lost!" A piece of shrapnel had cut one of Premas' fingerclaws, but at the moment, he did not even seem to notice the injury.

"Truth," Some of his fellow males agreed. Morale was beginning to take a dive. They won most battles, yes, but they were a long way from winning the power. Even the weaker not-empires on Tosev 3 could not be conquered successfully.

"We can still beat them; we are beating them!" A dissenter claimed. "Much of their not-empire is now in our control and through we may have been temporarily forced back, we will return and we will be victorious!" Some males agreed, but not as many at Betvoss was hoping for. He personally hoped that he was the only one who was gloomy, who was exhausted by a conquest seemingly without end, and it had lasted just slightly over a year.

"It's not just that." Votal responded, much more quietly than Premas. "Many males have disappeared from the base, disciplined as ginger-tasters. More than I ever previously believed possible."

That had a role to play in it as well. Ginger, unfortunately, made a Male of the Race feel like they were invincible and victory was inevitable. Too many of them ended up dead by the Big Uglies' hands, especially those that could not control their addiction. Others were arrested and punished, weakening their fortifications further. More disappeared every day, but those who remained kept right on tasting regardless.

_Thank the Emperor I did not become one of them, _Betvoss thought. He had been offered ginger numerous times but always refused. Some were just males willing to share their drug; others were dealers attempting to get him addicted in order to make more money. There were occasions that he thought about doing so, but after seeing what it did to so many of his companions, he promised the spirits of Emperors Past that he would never use it.

He hoped his superiors would know what to do about it, because Betvoss certainly didn't. Many were quiet, still musing over their defeat. They were not completely driven to distraction- all of them were still ready at a moment's notice should the Big Uglies attempt another raid in Xiangyang, but there was little idle chatter. Those who tasted ginger were currently doing so.

"I wonder what our next orders are going to be." Betvoss mused. Would they be ordered to retake Shiyan or launch an offensive somewhere else in hoped of taking the Big Uglies by surprise. Explosions were heard in the distance, making him very grateful that he wasn't one of the poor males currently on patrol. He would be before too long, but tried to enjoy the respite.

With nothing else to do, he decided to head into his room and re-applied his body paint. Betvoss made sure that each line, each color, was exactly what it was supposed to be. It was meant not only to signify rank, but as a work of art. On Home, there were males who would spend half a day on their body paint in order to make it absolutely perfect. Betvoss did not have the luxury of doing so, but it made him feel like he was still a part of something, part of the Race.

_Will I even be fit for society when this is over? _Betvoss was a very different male than the one who had gone into cold sleep, ready to bring a fourth planet into the Empire. He was supposed to respect his superiors, and they would show him obligation in return. They were criticized, yes, but to a much lesser degree than the Big Uglies. _Of course, their leaders are also far more irresponsible. _

He checked his body paint one last time, mostly convincing himself that he was still a part of the Race despite his growing distance from what it was supposed to represent. Another bomb startled him, but Betvoss knew that it was in the distance. Even Xiangyang had only a relatively small garrison of about 12,000 males. They were outnumbered over 100 to one by the Big Uglies.

Not wanting to be alone, he decided to rejoin the rest of his comrades. Chatter was slowly picking up, but there were only murmurs. Betvoss ate a local dish that he had come to like, although he wasn't sure what it was called. Premas and Votal were looking at a hologram of Home, to remind them of what they were fighting for.

"Hey, friend, I've got something you'll be very interested in." A male walked up to him, his body paint unkempt and a lustful grin on his face. His left arm was in a pocket- even inside the base, the Race often wore clothes during the local winter- full of what he was sure was ginger. "Something to cheer you up."

"I'm not interested; get lost!" Betvoss snapped at him angrily, getting very tired of the constant ginger offers. He wondered if the Big Uglies had to go through the same thing with their own substances; he doubted it.

The other male thought it through, then scattered. Betvoss was very tempted to report him to his superiors, but what was the point? There were many more like him, and the base was shorthanded enough without inspectors taking more Males of the Race away for punishment. On Home, he would have informed the authorities immediately, but circumstances were different on Tosev 3.

"They hardly seem like males of the Race at all, do they?" Votal remarked, apparently hearing the whole conversation.

"It seems not, superior sir." Betvoss hissed. "Do you want me to report him?"

"Yes, if I thought the base could hold its own without him." Votal sighed, making the negative hand gesture. "I am glad you chose not to take him up on his offer, Betvoss. The Race has enough ginger addicts as it is."

"Truth; I have seen too much evidence of its effects to want the drug for myself." Betvoss agreed.

"Am I missing something?" Premas asked. Unlike Votal, he had not been paying attention to the conversation. "Is there any news on what the Big Uglies are going to do next?"

Mortar shells being launched in their direction answered his question. Like most males, Betvoss carried his weapon and ammunition with them; it was once against regulations, but the commanders realized that it only left them more vulnerable. In India, once such base was overwhelmed with all its males killed or captured, and they were anxious to keep such events from occurring again.

They spread out as best they could inside the confined building. Mortar shells were unlikely to penetrate the concrete and steel, but none of them wanted to take unnecessary chances. "I hope we can hunt them down before they do any further damage." Betvoss declared. Unlike missiles, there was next to nothing they could do to intercept mortars.

"Fortunately, we are not outside at the present time." Premas added, although he still worried about the males who were. Mortar shells didn't cause many casualties, but all of them hated the term "Light casualties". It was true unless you became one of them, in which case "light" suddenly became "heavy".

"We will be; we need to hunt those Big Uglies down and make an example out of them." Betvoss announced, but it was more than likely that they would simply flee, leaving the mortars behind; the weapons were easily replaceable.

This was not an ordinary raid, however. Betvoss heard killercraft flying above them and it took a few moments to realize that they did not belong to the Race. Even in China, they had some left in their possession. Both were shot down, but not before they delivered their deadly payload. Even one of the wrecks crashed into a barracks, turning it into rubble; only their efforts at fire resistance kept it from turning into an inferno.

Some of the males were gasping outside, even though there was no visible smoke or explosions. A green light began to blare inside of the base, meaning only one thing: gas. Of all the vicious inventions of the Big Uglies, Betvoss hated gas the most, even more than explosive-metal bombs. They didn't have anything like the level of protective gear they needed, and ordinary clothing gave almost no protection against nerve gases.

Their medics, however, did, and rushed outside to assist and save as many males as possible. As a whole, Race medicine was far better than its Tosevite equivalent, but they had to borrow and steal the cure for nerve gases from them. Betvoss and the others looked almost physically sick as they saw the victims. At a moment's glance, he could tell that some of them were not going to make it, not including the bodies that were already surrounding the area.

"By the emperor... how could this have happened?" Votal asked, almost in shock. Nerve gas attacks had become a part of Tosevite resistance, but they were usually small in scale, a few to a couple dozen kilos dropped on them, often killing more Big Uglies than Race infantrymales. This time, however, close to five tons were dropped on them.

"I pray that I will never see such a thing again." Betvoss shivered, even if males of the Race technically couldn't do so. Even worse than the dead were the gruesomely injured; horrifying as the dead were, they were at least with the Spirits of Emperors Past and beyond suffering. For some living members, the pain would never end.

The males in the barracks where the plane crashed almost all perished from the remaining Sarin gas stored onto the killercraft. So far, the total was close to 150 males, about 1.5% of the garrison in the city, and many of those who survived would not be fit for duty for a long time.

For once, Betvoss wished that he had developed a ginger addiction; that way, he wouldn't have to think about what had just transpired. The feeling passed, but his horror still burned strong. "By the Emperor, there will be a reckoning for this!" He exclaimed.

"We should slaughter every Big Ugly in this city for this atrocity!" A male exclaimed, and more than a few were agreeing with him. As the initial shock wore off, so would the bloodlust... but perhaps not too. The war had changed some males for the worse, making them much more eager to shoot Big Uglies, even those who were surrendering. There were strict punishments for such things, but in China, they were rarely enforced. Those the Chinese captured often met gruesome ends as well.

Betvoss felt the desire for revenge as well. When his battalion was called at to patrol again, a part of him was almost looking forward to it. _Try and kill me; just give me an excuse. _He thought. He fought the desire to simply massacre them in the streets, as such an action would likely only lead to more resistance, but the temptation was there nonetheless.

XXXXXXXXXX

January 7, 1983:

"Victory! Victory! Victory!" Everyone in the street was cheering. The counterattack had been over for four days, but those that remained were still in a mood to celebrate.

Melanie did not know just how many lizards that the Americans and her allies had captured, but a seemingly endless stream of them were being marched down the street, many of them frightened and filthy. They looked much less formidable from here. Few of them even came up to her chest and without weapons, were little threat.

"Interesting display we have," Thomas said mildly. "Even this is only a small fraction of them, however." Some members in the crowd screamed abuse at them, throwing rotten vegetable and rocks in their direction. No one had been crazy enough to shoot at them just yet, as they were being protected by an equal number of armed guards, but the desire for revenge was strong.

Someone walked up and kissed Melanie on the lips in celebration, lifting her off her feet. The first time that happened, she'd been in shock, but she'd grown to endure it. Hell, on the second day of the celebrations, she did it herself. It reminded her greatly of the V-E celebrations in Times Square at the end of World War II.

"Wonder what we're going to do with them..." Katherine mused.

"Letting them starve isn't the worst idea I've heard," Melanie gave an evil grin. During the attack, a couple soldiers had to practically hold her down to keep her from shooting a group of prisoners where they stood. She had still not heard news about her parents, but as their location was hit with two nuclear weapons, she and her brother both feared the worst.

"Be nice if we still had a home, though." Thomas sighed, his jubilation beginning to fade. Their apartment had been destroyed in the fighting, along with much of Cleveland. They may have surrounded the city and forced the lizards to surrender, but it came with a very high cost. The true number of dead might never be known, but Cleveland was the site of some of the heaviest fighting, with close to 150,000 Allied soldiers dead along with 1/3 as many civilians. Melanie thanked God that she, Thomas, and Katherine had not had to fight under such conditions.

"We're still alive; that's something at least." Melanie commented. She felt herself being hugged from behind yet again, but this time, it was different. He looked familiar.

"Mark, what the hell are you doing here?" Thomas asked in shock. A couple days after the lizards arrived, he disappeared without notice and they had seen no trace of him since.

"Here and there; can't believe you guys are still alive." Mark chuckled, but sobered up quickly. "Tara wasn't so lucky; her apartment took a direct."

"God, I'm sorry about that." Thomas replied. "I know you two were even talking about getting married." Melanie observed that while her brother still didn't like him, he had decided that there were more important things than his grudge.

"So what next?" Katherine asked. "Do we stay with the army or try to rebuild our lives here?"

"I expect we'll be fighting until the war's over." Thomas stated. "As terrified as I might be, I have a feeling that I need to keep going, that I can't just quit and let everyone down. There's no home to go back to, anyway, and I don't want to live in a refugee camp."

Refugee... Melanie never thought she'd ever hear that word apply to the United States of America. Men, women, and children who were now homeless, surviving on a meager portion of food and sometimes dirty water. There were countless others all throughout Ohio, both in the Northern portion that the Allies controlled and the southern one that still belonged to the lizards.

"Neither do I; I've seen the conditions there." Katherine shuddered. Both the government and private citizens were doing everything they could for them, but it was limited, as most of the resources were going towards the war effort. As Martial Law was declared, they were at least relatively safe. When people were caught attacking or taking advantage of them, they were shot without trial.

"I'll come along with you; some of my experience should prove useful." Mark declared. Melanie wondered: just what had he done when he disappeared? He spent a couple weeks in Boot Camp years ago before being thrown out, but she doubted that gave him enough experience to do a lot on his own.

"We're in for the duration, anyway." Melanie reminded. Once the parade was over, the four of them went back to the campsite. It wasn't that much better than a refugee camp, but they had priority over food and equipment. Each of them took regular showers and kept themselves as clean as they do in order to minimize infection. She never realized what how important simple things like bathing, toilet paper, and even hygiene products were until she found herself without them for an extended period of time.

Most of the assembled men and women were watching the latest propaganda videos. Destroyed starships in the United States, mass numbers of prisoners being escorted through the streets of ruined cities, celebrations in Britain, France, Canada, and what remained of West Germany. Throughout the montage of wrecked lizard equipment, Melanie noticed that next to nothing was said about how the effort was going in the Soviet Union. Only natural, since the Cold War was still active, even if the superpowers were cooperating with each other for now.

None of them even had their own cots, forcing them to sit and often even sleep on the floor. Had Melanie just arrived here after the comforts of home, it would have been completely unbearable. Now, though, it wasn't much of a problem. "Amazing what you get used to," Thomas chuckled.

They listened to a couple of Canadian soldier converse next to them. Unlike Melanie and the others, they had cots. "Can't believe we actually lived through that; you'd think aliens would have been more advanced." One of them said.

"I just hope that when we beat them, the Americans won't end up taking all the credit for this." The second replied. "I'm quite sure that's coming; give it ten years at the most and they'll claim they won the war by themselves."

"That gets rather tiring, them thinking we're all a bunch of arrogant assholes." Katherine sighed. Melanie agreed; it wasn't the first time they heard comments like that.

"Well, what can you do?" Mark shrugged. "As long as we're winning the war, they can say whatever they please."

"I'm just worried about what the lizards are going to do now that they've figured out we're not pushovers." Thomas sighed. "I hate to ignore the optimism, but people are acting like the whole war's already over. They've suffered a major setback, but they haven't been beaten."

"Do you always have to be so negative?" Melanie groaned, slapping her forehead. "Things are looking up, and you still think it's the end of the world."

"I bet they've still got a lot of nuclear weapons they can use on us." Thomas retorted. "Now that we're pushing them back, they'll likely escalate this war; we can't shoot them all down. They've come twelve light years and after traveling such a distance, they're not going to leave at the first pinprick. The European powers and our settlers didn't pack it up and go home because they encounter resistance."

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Katherine snapped. "Quit bringing everyone's mood down!"

"Yes, just keep quiet for once." Mark rolled his eyes. "I know it's not over, but can't you at least be cheerful over a victory?" Thomas shut up, still glowering at them.

"Do they have anything to eat here besides rations?" Katherine wondered.

"They have some restaurants still in business, but it costs three times what it used to." Melanie informed. She had gone a couple times in spite of that. There was nothing else to do with her money and eating the same thing day after day got extremely tiresome after a while.

"May as well; there's nothing else to do." Mark agreed. "Do you want to come along?" He asked Thomas.

"All right, I'm getting a little tired of rations too." Thomas admitted, pushing himself to his feet. All of them put their weapons on the gun rack, except for their pistols, which they kept with them. Martial Law or not, Melanie didn't feel entirely safe walking around Cleveland without some sort of protection, not since she was a small child.

The diner they arrived to had no windows, only boards, but it was mostly a hospitable place just the same. None of them talked much, focusing on what was now a rare treat; one more thing that they took for granted before the invasion. A loud noise startled them, but it was only fireworks.

"Thank god; for a second, I thought we were being shelled again." Mark let out a deep breath of relief.

"Yeah, I think we've gone off the deep end." Melanie chuckled to relieve the tension.

"Hey, it looks like they're broadcasting a speech." Katherine pointed to the television.

"You'd think they'd run out of words to say by now..." Thomas murmured. "It's the same thing over and over again."

On the screen, Ronald Reagan, Yuri Andropov, Margaret Thatcher, Francois Mitterrand, Indira Gandhi, and Hu Yaobang. The Secretary General of NATO Joseph Luns was the one giving the speech on the podium. Behind him were the national flags of the major powers, one of which had nothing but the planet Earth, symbolizing how humanity had come together to fight their common enemy.

"Seven months ago, the Race came to our world." He began. "We offered peace, a chance to learn from one another. We believed that learning that we are not alone in this galaxy would open up many new opportunities. Instead they decided to subjugate us in an attempt to make us our servants; their response to our olive branch was a nuclear assault on our cities, killing countless innocent people.

"But we are resilient, we are strong, and we have proven ourselves capable of achieving victory. They believed that we would cower before their might, submit to their aggression; the Race was wrong. All throughout the world, the Race is in retreat. They are not invincible, and they can be resisted.

"This victory was not brought about by one nation alone, but by our people as a whole, whether they be American, Soviet, European, or any other people of our diverse world. This invasion has reminded us of our shared humanity, a lesson we must remember even after this war has concluded.

"But let us not forget that our victory has come at a high price. Many good men are dead because of their unprovoked aggression, and we must not forget those of us who give everything to protect Earth, to protect our nations, to send a message to the Race that we will not fall. Our courage and determination will see us through this planet's greatest crisis.

"To those of you who fight on, we ask you not to waiver from your course. We have won a battle, but the war is far from over. Your home, your country, and your species ask much of you in order to resist the invaders, but we cannot give in, no matter what methods they use in order to terrify us. We did not ask for this conflict, but we have it nonetheless, and we will not stop until our triumph is complete.

"To those who are currently under occupation: do not cooperate with the enemy in any way. Do not give them information on our soldiers, do not work in their factories, do not work in their prison camps. Sabotage them wherever you can, hit them from all directions. With your help, they will concede that Earth cannot be conquered and go back to their homes."

"To any Race personnel: your conquest of Earth is futile. You cannot terrify us into submission, you cannot hold our territory, nor can you convince us to simply lay down our arms and join your empire. Coexistence between our two peoples would benefit us both, and once again, we offer this opportunity to you. It would be most unwise to continue on your current course."

XXXXXXXXXX

January 8, 1983:

_The fleetlord isn't going to like this, _Ttomalss thought as he complied his analysis of the situation on Tosev 3, but he felt that he was duty-bound to give his superiors the truth, not just what they wanted to hear.

Unfortunately, they did not have the resources to study the Tosevites as extensively as he would have wanted. One bit of information researchers quickly figured out was that they were very different than the previous two subject races, the Rabotevs and Halessi. They were larger, they were more violent, and they advanced technologically at a much greater pace than any other species they encountered.

Among the most important information was that the Tosevites grouped themselves into families (A term the Race had to borrow in the Tosevite language) and raised their hatchlings into adulthood, instead of a communal structure. Nobody knew for sure why that was, as they had so little opportunity to run experiments. Ttomalss had acquired a couple of child-rearing books from the surface and from what he could translate from them, one hypothesis was that their hatchlings were completely helpless and would die without protection from their parents.

They were extraordinarily protective of their hatchlings even after they reached maturity, something Ttomalss had yet to figure out the cause for. "Given their perceived helplessness, it is understandable for the Tosevites to expend great effort in protecting their young." He began a recording of his research. "Not only are they unable to care for themselves, the female expends a great amount of energy birthing the hatchling"- a method of birth Ttomalss found repulsive, although it was not unheard of among creatures of Home- "putting herself at great risk to ensure its entry into the world."

He turned the recording off for a few moments in order to gather his thoughts. His next sentence was: "Under such circumstances, it is perhaps reasonable that they form such strong attachments to their hatchlings, to an extent any member of the Race would find alien. However, a continuing mystery is why this continues ever after the Tosevite reaches maturity and self-sufficiency. From our current evidence, it appears as if this bond lasts a lifetime, parent and hatchling both."

His current project was to see if he could turn the Tosevite's differing biology into a weapon for winning the war. Ginger had already become a major problem for the Race, even though it was nothing more than a spice for the natives. Ttomalss had spoken to a few prisoners, although how truthful they were when it came to interrogation was questionable. Their truth drug worked imperfectly, possibly because the Tosevites lied far more often than the Race.

Still, it was at least a foundation for further understanding. They would have the luxury of time and thoroughness had been completed (although Ttomalss doubted that it could be done, something he kept to himself). This bond was just as important to the Tosevites as bonds of friendship were to the Race. Parents who had lost their children and wives attacked males of the Race without mercy, often not caring whether or not they lived or died. Individuals who were willing, even eager, to die if they could take males with him were proving extremely difficult to stop.

"However... the fleetlord wants an answer about our chances for a successful conquest." Ttomalss stated, making sure the recorder was off before he spoke out loud. Just the fact that Atvar was asking them for an assessment spoke volumes about how the war was going.

The Tosevite counterattack had stopped and since the Race was not going to be able to advance on much of the planet due to its current climate, they were consolidating their position, repairing their vehicles, producing as much ammunition as was feasible at the present time. Ttomalss knew that the enemy was doing the same, preparing for the turn of the seasons.

_Approximately 4.5 billion tosevites on this planet, and perhaps 16.5 million males suitable for action right now. _Ttomalss mused as he wrote the first pages of his report. He was no strategist and there were other males of the Race that were far more suitable to developing strategy than he was. His job was to work on psychological warfare.

What he was finding, though, was that the Tosevites were not easy to intimidate. They had already used a significant portion of their explosive-metal stockpile attempting to do so, only to see it fail. It only increased their desire to fight on, despite the heavy losses they were taking. There were few natives who were working with the Race, and even they often cooperated with the Tosevite militaries.

The fact that so many males were lost was troubling, however. Many males were dead or captured, with hundreds of thousands recovering from wounds that they had received in the process. Their medicine was advanced and most returned to action within a couple year-tenths, but there was a constant flow of wounded males. Even that was ignoring all the males currently being punished for tasting ginger.

"One possible effort that would help us is protecting Tosevites enlightened enough to cooperate with us from reprisals." Ttomalss remarked, writing it on his report. "We have learned through painful experience to protect ourselves from their duplicity, but if we cannot protect our proxies, they will have little motivation to assist us."

They were even confident enough that they sent repeated messages to Race starships, offering peaceful coexistence. Atvar had not deigned to respond to any of them. A few thought the Tosevites were ready to surrender, but most felt otherwise. They were continuing to build their war machine, demanding to be treated as equals and to keep their independence. The Tosevite demands were unacceptable and thus the war would continue.

Once again, he stopped to gather his thoughts once again. Under normal circumstances, his report would undergo several revisions before being submitted, but they did not have the luxury of time. Ttomalss complied his report and his recommendations as quickly as he could reasonably allow. Bad information would be worse than none at all, but without a comprehensive study of the Tosevites, a lot of it was simply guesswork. Educated guesswork, but still guesswork.

However much he did not want to write his personal opinion, he was obligated to be honest. At the end of his report, he wrote that it was highly unlikely that the Race would be able to conquer Tosev 3 in the end. The natives were too advanced, too numerous, and too determined to resist. Even if they could conquer them, resistance efforts would continue, as they had in portions of the not-empires they had conquered. After a bit moment of indecision, he wrote the notes and sent it to the fleetlord.

XXXXXXXXXX

So what did you think? I was hoping to get the speech as accurate as possible to what our leaders would really say under similar circumstances, although obviously such speeches would be much longer.

FYI: I'm also in the planning stages of an alternate Colonization where Tosev 3 has been conquered in its entirety and about the continuing efforts to free ourselves, in addition to how we adjust to being servants of an interstellar power.


End file.
